


Minnesota, State Of...

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dancer, F/M, Modern AU, Very fluffy, all the minnesota things, dancer/hockey au, hockey player, like zero angst, look at me go!, sansa x sandor - Freeform, sansan, that's rare, the pride of minnesota, this is so fucking self indulgent and i don't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 166,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: Minnesota, State of Hockey, State of Dance, State of Sansan.Sansa Stark was the captain of the Minnesota Golden Gopher Dance Team, straight A college student, and decidedly single.Sandor Clegane was the assistant coach of the Minnesota Golden Gopher Hockey Team, notorious hard ass, and also decidedly single.Sansa was sure that her junior year would be focused on winning another National Championship, not her relationship status. But when she was rescued by the crabby hockey coach, she began to think that maybe there was something just a little bit more for her in Minnesota.





	1. The Golden Gophers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD IT'S REALLY HAPPENING I'M POSTING ANOTHER SANSAN STORY AHHHH  
> so here's what you gotta know - this is so minnesota culture centric, I went ahead and made a guide. It's on my tumblr and will be updated. If you have any questions on location, slang, terms, characters, etc, I will do my best to answer them there! 
> 
> https://raginglittlehurricane.tumblr.com/post/176865846680/minnesota-state-of-the-guide-its-here-its
> 
> Otherwise just a few housekeeping things - this would not be done without the eternally awesome redxhairedxqueen, who deserves all the love. A disclaimer - I was not a dancer for the U of M, nor a hockey player. I am just a girl who really loves her home state, and feels like us Minny folk don't get enough love. If someone else happens upon this that is more knowledgable than I, feel free to call me out. 
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy the most cliche pairing in the world (I should know, I fit it) the dancer x hockey player.

Sansa Stark carefully curled her hair around the curling iron, watching herself intently. She sat on the floor of her apartment, in front of the massive floor to ceiling mirror. With intense concentration, she held the hot iron a few inches from her face. Then, once she was satisfied, she let it go and a nice, bouncy curl fell down around her pale face. 

 

“Screw you and your perfect curls.” Gilly looked at her longingly, where she was sitting on the couch, a makeup mirror in her hands. “How do you get them to stay so well?” 

 

“I guess I’ve just got the hair for it,” Sansa smiled at her through the mirror. “Arya doesn’t though; when she actually would’ve sat still long enough for my mom to curl it, it was flat ten minutes later.” 

 

“I could use a bottle of hairspray and mine would still be flat,” Gilly pouted, then swiped on a bright red lipstick. 

 

“Better hope Mel doesn’t want curly hair on game days then,” Margaery, Sansa’s roommate and best friend, steered Myrcella towards Sansa. The young freshman was wide eyed, and Sansa couldn’t blame her. Margaery was prancing around in her underwear, despite the fact that most of the team was scattered throughout the apartment, getting ready. 

 

Missy and Dany had commandeered the bathroom, helping the other freshman girls with hair and makeup, while Ygritte and Shae fought over what Ygritte was going to wear. Jeyne was sitting before Sansa’s shoes, trying to pick a pair out for Irri. The shyest freshman, Shireen, watched it all with wide eyes. Sansa had no idea where the rest of the girls were, but the apartment stunk of hairspray, perfume, and the cookies she had baked.

 

“If you’re asking me,” Margaery was saying loudly, as Sansa gave Myrcella a little smile and began to curl her hair. “This whole thing is a waste of time.” 

 

“You don’t sing that tune when the boosters pay for your first class ticket to Nationals,” Shae, a senior, reminded her. Margaery rolled her eyes. 

 

“I could have my dad pay for that in a heart beat,” she said smugly and Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As the only daughter of the Tyrell family, a massive fashion label specializing in elaborate wedding dresses, Margaery never missed an opportunity to remind her fellow dancers exactly where their costumes came from and who exactly paid for them. 

 

“Sure, and so could most of the dads of the girls in this room,” Shae held Margaery’s gaze easily. It was no secret that most of the girls had wealthy fathers. After all, dance was not cheap, and to dance for Minnesota meant being the best. 

 

Sansa caught Myrcella’s eye in the mirror and smiled reassuringly at her. Margaery and Shae had their spats, but it was always over stupid things, and ended quickly. They never genuinely brought the claws out. 

 

“Well, still,” Margaery flounced towards her bedroom, tossing her ringleted hair over her shoulder. “This is stupid and useless. I’ll just spend the whole time looking for my future husband then.” 

 

“Oh, will she?” Gilly huffed under her breath, once Margaery’s door had slammed shut. “Because Lord help the boy who tries to make her into a housewife.” 

 

Sansa and the other girls within hearing range stifled their giggles and continued to get ready. Myrcella played with the hem of her pretty, pastel pink dress and Sansa saw the hesitation there. She smiled to herself, remembering when she was just a freshman. Now a junior, the days seemed both extraordinarily distant and incredibly recent. 

 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly to the young girl, who looked up at her with wide green eyes. “It’s just a night of mingling, nothing crazy. It’s all a big fundraiser, really. The donors and boosters want to meet the athletes, talk to them. All you have to do is have a big smile, shake some hands, and talk about what an honor it is to represent the U and be a Gopher.” 

 

“I’m not nervous,” Myrcella said a little too quickly. “My mom told me just to smile and sit pretty.” 

 

“That’s basically it,” Sansa gave a little shrug. “We get paraded around for a couple of hours, and then we get new costumes and things. It’s pretty simple.” 

 

“Will the boys teams be there?” Myrcella asked, blushing, and Sansa chuckled. 

 

“Yes, but don’t listen to Mar. She’s trying to wind you babies up. The boys hardly pay attention to us, especially the freshman boys. They’re so excited to go to parties and stuff, they’re not going to settle down. It’s easier to not even think about dating them for a couple years,” Sansa advised and Myrcella dropped her gaze. 

 

“Like my brother,” she muttered. Sansa’s hand froze on the curling iron, before very carefully disentangling it from Myrcella’s golden locks. 

 

“Hey, Joffrey and I mutually decided that it wasn’t going to work out,” Sansa worked to keep a calm smile on her face. Her freshman relationship with Joffrey had gone sour— very sour— the first winter of freshman year. Even if they’d only been together for a couple months, it had been a disaster, and a public one at that. Sansa had been on the sidelines on the basketball game, cheering the team on, and a drunk Joffrey had accused her of cheating, going on to punch her. He’d been expelled, but Sansa knew everyone still knew her name from that incident. 

 

“He’s living at home,” Myrcella offered and Sansa’s hands shook as she unplugged the iron. “He’s useless now, and we all hate him. Especially grandpa, said generations of Lannister’s have gone here and Joffrey managed to tarnish them in one night.” 

 

“It’s nothing,” Sansa fought to avoid thinking of the phantom pain in her cheek. Sometimes she still remembered it. “Hey, go see if Ros will let you wear her gold heels. They’d look great with your dress.” 

 

“You think?” Myrcella stood and admired her hair in the mirror. “This is amazing Sansa, thank you.” 

 

“Of course,” Sansa gave her a little smile. As Myrcella wandered off to find Ros, Jeyne gave Sansa a knowing look. 

 

“That weird?” she asked her curiously. 

 

“Not at all,” Sansa snapped her makeup bag shut. “She’s not her brother. She’s my teammate, you know that.” 

 

“Uh huh,” Jeyne rolled her eyes. “And Arya’s your sister, and look at how bad you two fight.” 

 

“Hey,” Sansa pointed her finger at her oldest friend. “We’re working on it.” 

 

“Sure,” Jeyne grinned and took another cookie. “Just like I’m working on dieting.” 

 

“Help the freshman get ready,” Sansa ordered, walking for her bedroom. She slipped through the shut door, closing it and locking it behind her. She took a moment to savor the quiet from the madness, before heading to her closet. 

 

She chose a pale blue dress, one that left her collarbones bare but covered her arms and hung just above her knees. She selected her jewelry with care, pulling the foremost strands of her long hair back and swiping on some makeup. Once she was satisfied with her look, she pulled on her nude heels, doing the little white buckle on the strap that crossed over her ankles. Then she went back to chaos. 

 

Most of the girls were almost ready, being herded out by Dany, loud and in charge as ever. She, Sansa, and Ygritte may have been the captains, but Dany was the leader, and she did it well. The girls piled into cars, all wearing their nicest dresses and heels, loudly gossiping and snapping pictures on slim iPhones. 

 

“Do we have everyone?” Sansa tried to count heads, but she didn’t know half the freshman yet, and Margaery had already taken off with god-knows how many girls. 

 

“Better hope so,” Ros smirked, slamming the passenger door of Sansa’s Jeep and Sansa sighed, climbing into the driver’s seat. She always drove because she always stayed sober. She knew that some of the girls, most likely Ros and Margaery, would get wasted. She didn’t mind being the mother hen. She’d blacked out one too many times freshman year, and she’d resolved to never do it again. 

 

The alumni center was already filled with athletes and boosters when their team walked in. Their coach Mel was waiting for them, her deep red hair pulled back, wearing a slinky black dress. They all fell quiet under her scrutiny, shifting from side to side outside in the setting sun. 

 

“Alright,” she said finally, with just the barest hint of her accent coloring her words. “You all look lovely. Pretty smiles, please. You’re reigning National Champions. Go out there and remind them.” 

 

“Doesn’t matter how many years we win Nationals,” Margaery said in a faux whisper that carried over the crowd of girls. “No one cares unless it’s football or hockey.” 

 

“Don’t let Mel hear that,” Sansa advised, raising her eyebrows at Margaery, who gave a carefree laugh and headed straight for the open bar, flirting with the bartender. Sansa rolled her eyes in amusement at her friend, and then began to circle the crowd. 

 

She knew a lot of the boys from cheering for them, parties, classes, workouts, and even a couple that had been brave enough to flirt with her after the disaster of Joffrey. She waved to Loras, Margaery’s brother, who was diving for the men’s team. She tried to rescue any of the girls who looked like they were floundering, noting with pride when shy Shireen was engrossed in a conversation with the old wrestling coach Davos, laughing like close family friends. 

 

Sansa was just starting to relax and enjoy herself in the evening, thinking about finding somewhere to sit and rest her feet, when she turned around and ran smack into what was an immovable wall of muscle. She stumbled back, already spluttering her apologies, when the wall growled and a hand shot out to her waist, keeping her upright. 

 

“Girl,” the voice was a deep rumble and Sansa, breathless, looked up into grey eyes. “Take it easy.”

 

“I am so sorry sir,” she apologized quickly, righting herself. “I wasn’t paying attention, it was all my fault, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I am so sor—” 

 

“Quit chirping,” he grumbled and she fell silent instantly. After a moment, he seemed to remember himself and his hand dropped from her waist. Sansa took a deep breath and tried to gather her senses. This could only be one man.

 

Sandor Clegane, the boys hockey assistant coach. Sansa knew a little about him from the few hockey boys she’d befriended. He had played out west for a couple years and he’d won a Stanley Cup. He was a massive defenseman, the last of the enforcers. The most distinctive thing about him was the scars that covered one side of his face. She’d seen him a few times in passing, conditioning with the boys or at functions like these. 

 

“Sorry,” she said again, before she could help herself. His grey gaze, intense and angry, flicked down to her and his frown tightened. She broke eye contact with him, least he think she was staring at his scars. She went to step around him, before spotting the one person she was actively trying hard to avoid and hissed out her breath, darting back behind Clegane. 

 

“What the—” he began, as she maneuvered him like a shield, keeping him between her and the crowd. 

 

“Sorry,” she breathed and he made a noise of agitation, looking over his shoulder. 

 

“What are you—”

 

“He’s looking. Hide me,” she whispered and he took a step closer to her, using his large body to block hers. His eyes locked onto her’s and she looked up, trying to give him her brightest and most charming smile. 

 

“Who—are—you—avoiding?” He let silence hang between each word. 

 

“Petyr Baelish,” Sansa peeked around him and upon seeing a slender figure with salt and pepper hair, returned to hiding. 

 

“The board member?” He frowned down at her. “Why are you avoiding him?” 

 

“Because,” Sansa winced. “He’s… creepy.” 

 

“Creepy,” he repeated with a note of disbelief. 

 

“Yes,” Sansa said with a note of annoyance. No one ever believed her about what a pervy vibe Baelish gave off except Arya. It was the only thing on which she and her sister could agree. “He’s… an old family friend. And now he always makes weird remarks about how I’m legal. I thought he wasn’t coming tonight!” She dug for her phone, intent on texting her mother and leaving a strongly worded rant about her mother’s so called ‘friends’.

 

“Wait,” Clegane said slowly, looking down at her and Sansa glanced up at him. “You’re… a Stark.” 

 

“I am,” Sansa kept typing. She wasn’t surprised he knew, she was actually surprised he hadn’t figured it out sooner. Most people knew her family, what with her mother being the heiress to the brewing company of Riverrun and her father being something of an iron and timber giant. Margaery and Myrcella weren’t the only daughters of millionaires to attend the U and dance. 

 

“Sansa,” his voice was quiet and she looked up at him again, surprised at how tender he sounded. “Sansa Stark.” 

 

“That’s me,” she whispered back, trying to understand why she felt butterflies. Her phone dangled forgotten in her hand, and she stared up at him, taking in those grey eyes that looked down at her with a mixture of intrigue and something else. 

 

Then he broke the spell by glancing over his shoulder and Sansa exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She straightened her dress and hair before he looked back at her. 

 

“He’s gone. Want me to cover you so you can leave?” he offered and Sansa hesitated, thinking of her teammates waiting for a ride, what Mel would say tomorrow at practice if she knew Sansa had left early, and all the reasons why she didn’t want to leave, not if it meant that she’d have to stop talking to him. 

 

“Um, yeah,” she said finally, after weighing Mel’s anger or the way that Petyr had groped her ass at the 4th of July picnic her family hosted at the lake this summer. “Let me leave my keys here— they’ll need my car to get everyone home.” 

 

“How are you getting home?” He asked, watching her curiously. 

 

“Not sure,” she glanced down at her heels. “Uber probably.” 

 

“Fuck Uber,” he muttered and she glanced at him. “I can give you a ride.” 

 

“My apartment is—” She started to protest half heartedly then trailed off at his skeptical look. “Oh, okay, fine. Cover me?” 

 

As one, they began moving across the space. Sansa retrieved the keys from her purse and when she found Gilly, pressed them into the girl’s hand. 

 

“I have to leave,” she muttered and added, after seeing Gilly’s concerned look, “Just a little family emergency. Get the freshies home, make sure that Mar doesn’t drive drunk, and let yourself into my apartment if I’m not there, okay? I shouldn’t be long.” 

 

“Is everyone okay?” Gilly asked worriedly. Sansa gave her a bright smile, trying not to glance over her shoulder as Clegane milled about, doing his best to look like he wasn’t hovering. 

 

“Everyone is excellent. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” 

 

“Okay.” Looking only mildly reassured, Gilly tucked the keys away and Sansa slipped along the wall. She’d have to come up with a better lie for later, since Gilly knew her family well. But she’d have plenty of time to think on it, and she eased out the door with Clegane behind her. 

 

“Thank you, again,” she said, taking a deep breath of the rapidly cooling summer air. It stayed warm late into the night most August days, but today had been a little cooler. A sign of the upcoming fall and Sansa relished it. “You’re like a knight, rescuing me.” 

 

“Not a knight,” he muttered, watching her with his head cocked for a moment, before heading to where his truck was parked. Sansa followed, striding along confidently in her tall heels. 

 

“That’s right, you were a Duck, weren’t you?” She asked thoughtfully and he jerked to look at her. After a second, his gaze flicked down to her feet and back up again. 

 

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, a little roughly. 

 

“Doing what?” Sansa frowned, glancing down at herself. 

 

“Walking in those damn things.” He kept his gaze straight ahead as they crossed the street and headed for the parking lot in the shadow of the stadium. 

 

“Oh, heels?” Sansa didn’t skip a beat. “They’re easy. I’ve been in heels since I was little. Mom said if I wasn’t barefoot I was in them. My nanny, Mordy, always told me I was going to break my neck, and—”

 

“Your nanny was named Mordy?” He scoffed and she blushed. 

 

“Not, that was our name for her. Arya could never say her proper name, Mordane, so we always had a bunch of nicknames for her. Mordy was her least favorite, so naturally that’s what we all called her.” 

 

“We all?” He raised an eyebrow and Sansa bit her lip for a second, hesitating. She always got varied reactions when she brought up her siblings. 

 

“I have a… Large family.” 

 

“Aye, I remember,” his gaze was straight ahead. “Feel like a hundred of you Starks have come through here.” 

 

“Yeah, we all have so far,” Sansa gave a little smile. “Family tradition I guess. Growing up, my dad was all about the U. Mom was a Badger, and he always joked that he wasn’t going to marry her when he found out. But the rest of us, Gophers.” 

 

“Ned Stark’s your father then,” he said shortly and Sansa paused. People usually had opinions on her father, and sometimes she preferred not knowing them. 

 

“He is,” she responded quietly and after a moment, his gaze flickered to her. 

 

“Good man,” he said finally and Sansa exhaled. “Met him at a banquet once. Never got to coach Theon, but I heard he was good.” 

 

“He was,” Sansa smiled at the mention of her adopted older brother. “He’s playing over in the KHL.” 

 

“Is he?” His eyebrows rose. “Fuck, that’s a ways away.” 

 

“Not really,” Sansa shrugged. “Theon was from Russia, before. We adopted him when he was a kid, but he’s aways wanted to go back. I kinda miss him though.”

 

“And Robb, football player,” he listed her another of her older brothers. 

 

“That’s the one,” Sansa gave a little smile. “Quarterback.” 

 

“Yeah, I went to a couple games. Saw him play,” his gaze, again, just a fraction of a second on her skin. It felt like it burned as they made their way across the pavement to the cars. 

 

“He was good," Sansa filled in the words people always said. “He works for my dad now. Just got married, actually. Gonna be an aunt soon.” She did beam at that. Robb had shocked them all by settling down young and starting a family, but in spite of her parents’ dislike of the situation, Sansa found it romantic. Talisa, who was from Europe, was very sweet. She knew Robb had fallen hard for her, and marriage was one way to secure her citizenship here. Besides, any chance for a baby was a good thing in Sansa’s eyes. 

 

“Nice,” he grunted and then was silent. Sansa took a few steps in the quiet, before needing to fill it. 

 

“And my cousin Jon, we adopted him too. He graduated a year before Robb did. He lives over up in Vancouver now,” she told him, with a note of sadness. She’d never been that close to Jon growing up, with his quiet sadness and introvert tendencies. He’d gone to school for art and film, and had gone to Canada to seek out his luck on film sets. Sansa found she missed him more now that he was so far away. 

 

“Not an athlete like the rest of you?” Clegane said mockingly, but Sansa brushed it off. She was well aware of how many people thought her family paid the university for them to play, no matter that Robb was the best quarterback in decades, that Theon had led the team in points his junior year, or that she worked her ass off to make the dance team year after year. 

 

“No, he is,” Sansa thought of Jon, grinning at all of them, using his lacrosse stick to whack Arya’s shins. “Probably better than most of us. He’s just more artistic though. Not very competitive.” 

 

“Ah,” Clegane remarked and then they were standing behind a massive black truck. For a second, Sansa forgot to tell him all about how Jon excelled at any physical activity and stared at the massive beast. 

 

“Oh,” it was her turn to squeak, staring at it. Clegane raised an eyebrow and disappeared towards the driver’s side and after a beat, Sansa headed for the passenger side. She heaved herself up, trying to remain proper while also climbing into it. After a moment, she was neatly settled and glanced at Clegane, who was making a fuss of turning it on. The second the engine roared, it was drowned out by loud rock music. Sansa nearly shot through the roof. 

 

“Sorry,” he said hastily, turning the music down. Sansa put a hand over her racing heart and gave a shaky laugh. 

 

“Wow, I haven’t heard that since Theon moved out. Wow,” she took a deep breath. “That was— okay.” 

 

“Sorry,” he muttered and Sansa shook her head, laughing. 

 

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s usually the same in mine,” she revealed and he glanced at her skeptically. 

 

“Really?” 

 

“I mean, it’s a lot more Selena Gomez and Kesha and Coldplay, but yeah,” Sansa grinned cheekily at him. “Totally the same, right?” 

 

“Mhmm,” he made a noise that might have been of annoyance or amusement, she wasn’t sure. Sansa hoped for humor and buckled up as he navigated out of the parking lot. 

 

“Oh, my apartment is—” she began, but he ignored her, heading for the arena. 

 

“Need to grab some stuff,” he said when she made a little noise. “Then I’ll take you right home, princess.” 

 

“Oh,” she sat back, watching as he pulled around back of the arena, parking the truck with ease. “Do you like coaching?” 

 

“Do I…” he glanced at her, then frowned when he saw her getting out of the truck. “What are you doing?” 

 

“I’m not sitting in the car,” she said, a little affronted. What was she, four? 

 

“Fine,” shaking his head to rid himself of the annoyed look, he pulled keys from his pocket and unlocked a small, nondescript door. She followed him into the hallway, looking around with interest. She’d never been down below in the underbelly of the arena before. 

 

“So do you like it then?” She repeated, as she had to elongate her strides to keep up with his quick pace. “Coaching?” 

 

“Aye,” he glanced back at her like he didn’t understand why she’d ask. “When you can’t play, you coach, right?” 

 

“I think so. But,” Sansa said thoughtfully. “I coach because I love teaching.” 

 

“You coach?” He looked at her as he unlocked another door. 

 

“Well, more like teach,” she admitted. “At my old studio. I teach ballet and jazz to the younger girls, and lyrical styles to some of the older ones. And we put on camps and stuff in the summer. But I think when I’m done dancing, I’ll coach, for sure.” 

 

“Oh,” that seemed to surprise him for some reason and Sansa had to lunge to catch the door before it closed and locked again. Without so much as a thank you, he walked through it and she had to follow. 

 

He navigated through the maze of hallways and doors with ease, before they arrived in a locker room. Sansa hardly had time to soak it in, smell included, when he emerged with his bag and sticks in one hand. With a grunt that she took to mean she had to follow him back out again, he reversed their steps. 

 

“Why’d you have to get your bag?” She asked him curiously, watching as the massive thing banged against his back with every step. He gave her an incredulous look and when she simply blinked, he sighed. 

 

“Pick up game tomorrow.” 

 

“Oh, with who?” She asked him cheerfully and he frowned at her. 

 

“Friends.” 

 

“Like who?” She continued to peek and he exhaled, annoyed. 

 

“People, you little bird. Chirp something else, and be done with the questions.” 

 

“Okay, fine,” Sansa switched tracks easily, smiling brightly. “Um, what siblings didn’t I tell you about?” 

 

“Fuck, there’s more of you?” He demanded, meaning to be harsh, but Sansa saw the little hint of a smile on his face. 

 

“Oh, yeah. I have seven total, you know.” 

 

“Your poor mother,” he muttered and she grinned. 

 

“I mean, only five are really hers. But we were always collecting strays, or so she said,” Sansa smiled to think of home. Winterfell, a large estate in northern Minnesota. Despite spending most of their time in the spacious apartment in the cities close to work, the Stark family weekends and summers belonged to Winterfell. “Dogs and cats and a very mean goat, and a couple horses. Rickon had a snake for a couple months, but then it nearly ate one of the kittens and so dad sent it to the zoo or something. I mean, no one complained, and since then mom banned all reptiles, but I know for a fact there’s something under Rickon’s bed. And no spiders, that’s the rule, but everything else is fair game, and—”

 

“Who are the rest then?” He cut her off and she gave him a quizzical look, so he clarified. “Your siblings.” 

 

“Oh. Well after me, there’s my sister Arya. She’s a freshman here, and you better hope you never see her,” Sansa said with a laugh. 

 

“And why’s that?” He questioned, giving her a glance. 

 

“Because she’s the exact opposite of me,” Sansa declared, thinking of her younger sister. They were winter and summer, up and down, left and right. Always destined to be opposite, unable to meet in the middle. “She’s short and rude and spiteful and weird and strange and loud and she’d never be in a dress.” 

 

“Aye,” he gave a snort of amusement. “Sounds nothing like you.” 

 

“Nope, not at all,” Sansa waited as he opened a door. “She’s a massive pain.” 

 

“Wonder if she says the same about you,” he remarked under his breath and Sansa glanced at him. 

 

“What’s that mean?” she asked, hands on her hips. 

 

“Well, you’re you. A little basic,” he said, gesturing to her. “Let me guess, dance team, sorority, steady boyfriend, wears heels to class, drinks Starbucks, driving a BMW, all that stuff.” 

 

“I’m very much single, and I drive a Jeep, thanks.” Sansa’s temper flared slightly and he made a scoffing noise. “And just because I’m in a sorority and like coffee doesn’t make me basic.” 

 

“No,” he opened the door to outside and went through without holding it for her. “It makes you very basic.” 

 

“And you’re not?” Sansa followed, hot on his heels. 

 

“I don’t like Uggs or yoga pants, thanks very much,” he gave a harsh bark of laughter. 

 

“No, you’re hockey player basic,” Sansa folded her arms and refused to get into the truck. “With a big ass truck, long hair, a bad attitude, and acting like he knows everything about everyone!” 

 

“And what do you know about hockey players?” He gazed at her steadily. 

 

“I grew up with them,” she said smugly. “Stick around a couple years, you’ll be coaching Rickon.” Her littlest brother was already an up and coming star, and Sansa knew he’d play for the U, like all of them had. He would be better than all of them, better than maybe even Theon. “I’m a true northerner.” 

 

“Aye, that you are,” he laughed humorlessly and Sansa faltered. “Get in then, princess. I’ll take you home. Unless you don’t want a hockey player driving you around.” 

 

“No, I do,” Sansa unfolded her arms. Her feet really did hurt, and she didn’t want to stand around waiting for an Uber. “Just… stop being a jackass and calling me basic.” 

 

“Fine,” he seemed a little amused, unlocking the truck. She again pulled herself up and into it, settling on the seat. He observed her for a moment, then asked gruffly, “Where were your parents tonight then?” 

 

“They’re taking my brother Bran to a specialist,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. Her younger brother was the anomaly in the otherwise extremely active Stark family. Plagued with sicknesses since birth, he relied on a walker or wheelchair to get around on his weak, thin legs. Her parents devoted more time and money to trying find a cure for him than they did on anything else. While Sansa couldn’t blame them, sometimes she resented the fact that Rickon would often get dumped with her or Robb while her parents chased down the next breakthrough. “He… can’t walk well.” 

 

“Oh,” he was quiet then, and she directed him by pointing at the intersections. After a few minutes of silence, they were nearing her apartment when her stomach gave a mighty rumble. She’d missed supper trying to get the rest of the girls ready and skipped over the finger food at the party. He glanced at her. 

 

“Sorry,” she apologized, breaking the silence. 

 

“Hungry?” he asked, the word clipped. 

 

“I mean.…” she began and trailed off when he gave her another of his stern looks. “Yes,” she said honestly. 

 

“Alright,” he passed the turn that would’ve taken her home. “What do you want then?” 

 

“Oh, umm....” She was taken aback, sure he’d want her out of his hair sooner than later. “Um, I guess, I don’t care. Whatever you want. What are you hungry for? I’m sorry, you don’t have to take me to get food.” 

 

“Chirping again, little bird,” he warned and she was quiet. “Sushi alright?” 

 

“Sushi is fine, thank you,” she sighed in relief that he hadn’t suggested Wendy’s or Arby’s and grinned at him. “Actually, sushi is beyond alright. Sushi is amazing.” 

 

“Good to know,” he chuckled then and Sansa was quiet as he navigated them towards a popular place, a hole in the wall with great deals and even more amazing rolls. When he found a spot outside, Sansa slid from the truck, looking around fondly. 

 

“This is my favorite place,” she informed him, walking in. 

 

“Really?” He looked amused. “You millennial.” 

 

“Hey,” Sansa wiggled a finger at him. “You’re a millennial too, like it or not.” 

 

“Am I?” He gave her a look of disbelief as they went to order. 

 

“I mean, I think you are,” Sansa frowned slightly. “You should be. How old are you?” 

 

“Ha,” he laughed outright in her face and she cocked an eyebrow, pulling out her phone and holding the center button until it trilled. 

 

“Siri, how old is Sandor Clegane, the hockey player?” She asked, holding his gaze, which was fast narrowing. 

 

“Sandor Clegane is a Canadian hockey player who is 32 years old,” the phone told her. Sansa smiled smugly at him. 

 

“You’re a dirty cheat,” he accused her crankily and she simply held the button down again. 

 

“Siri, what’s the age range of millennials?” 

 

“Millennials range from age 18 to 34.” 

 

“So there,” Sansa snapped the phone off and stuck it back into her purse. “You’re a millennial too.” 

 

“An old one,” he frowned deeply at her. 

 

“Don’t be mad.” Sansa moved up to smile at the man at the counter. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

 

They both ordered, Sansa then Sandor. He insisted on paying, despite her fierce protests, and then they both sat down to wait for their orders. Sansa resumed playing on her phone, scrolling through her social media feeds, rolling her eyes as she saw the pictures being posted. As the night wore on, more of the girls were heading to parties. Sansa wanted to shout at them that it was stupid and futile and they’d be better off studying, but she kept her mouth shut. She was so focused she nearly missed his question. 

 

“So you dance?” He was toying with the napkin on the table, folding it into halves and then halves again. 

 

“I do,” Sansa put her phone down and smiled up at him. 

 

“Why?” he asked simply and Sansa couldn’t help but grin at that. 

 

“Because I love it,” she loved answering this question. She’d loved it since she was little and her mother had pressed both her and Arya into dance. Arya had quit after a week, but Sansa had stayed for the rest of her life. She loved everything about dancing. “Because for three minutes of my life, nothing else matters. It’s just the dance and me.” 

 

“And the people watching,” he reminded her and she gave him an even stare. 

 

“Out of everyone, you should understand why the audience only makes it better.” 

 

“Aye,” he leaned back with an appreciative glint in his eye, “alright.” 

 

“I’ve been dancing since I was three,” she explained. “It’s all I’ve ever known honestly. I mean, it was what I was good at. And I kept dancing and I kept getting better, and then I was good enough that I never wanted to do anything else. So now I just keep dancing.” 

 

“Just keep dancing,” he echoed. 

 

“What about you?” She fiddled with her phone idly, spinning it. “Why coach here?” 

 

“In Minnesota?” He clarified. She nodded. “Because you Minnesotans love your hockey almost as much as Canadians.” 

 

“We do,” Sansa said proudly. “But why not coach in Canada then?” 

 

“I like Minnesota,” he gave a shrug, looking uncomfortable. “I like the U. I dunno.” 

 

“Alright, I get that,” Sansa backed off with a smile. “There’s something about this place, isn’t there?” 

 

“Meaning you didn’t pick it because your whole damn family went here?” he questioned her, looking grateful for the change of topic. 

 

“No, I did,” she gave a tinkling laugh. “I mean, when your dad spends your whole life engraining it in you that you’re a Gopher and you’ll go here, just like he did and Robb did and everyone else, you don’t ever really start thinking about anywhere else. But since coming here, I’ve tried to make it my own. I don’t just want to be Theon, Robb, and Jon’s little sister. I don’t want to be Eddard Stark, the star tackle’s daughter. I want to be my own person. I don’t want anyone to notice me, really.” 

 

“A word of advice then,” he was staring at her queerly. “Don’t look so damn pretty.” 

 

“Oh?” Unsure of how to respond, she was grateful to avoid it when their sushi was brought out.He abruptly stood, heading for the truck. Sansa followed, her heels clicking on the tiled floor, head spinning. She was so distracted she nearly sent him in the wrong direction several times and when they finally reached her apartment, she felt like she had to do something. 

 

“This it?” He was gazing steadily out the window at the nice building. Sansa nodded before cringing and unsticking her throat. 

 

“Uh, yeah, it is. Thank you—thank you for the ride, and the sushi, and for covering for me like that, and—thanks. Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. Do you need cash? For gas and—” She went to fumble with her purse but he laid a hand over hers and she stilled, staring down at how massive it was compared to her own. His palm was warm, and a little rough. He gazed at her for a second and Sansa felt like all the air had left her lungs. 

 

“Chirping, little bird,” he said softly. She knew her face must look like a sunset, but she didn’t care. She was enchanted at how his lips worked, how his black hair curled at his collar, how his grey eyes gazed out under heavy brows with such intensity she had no idea how she bore it. Even the scar, once accustomed to it, drew no more attention than the rest of him. 

 

“Sorry,” she whispered yet again. When he chuckled and broke their gaze, she felt a little more hollow. 

 

“Keep your money,” he ordered, “and don’t forget your sushi.” She grabbed the plastic bag, suppressing a sigh. She didn’t want to get out and go sit alone in her room. She wanted to stay with him, she realized. “I hate those stupid events anyways.” 

 

“Well,” Sansa said, striving for calm instead of excitement. “Always happy to be your excuse out of them, since you saved me from the groping hands of perv Petyr.” 

 

He turned to her with something unrecognizable on his face and she froze, hand on the door. For a long moment, Sansa wondered wildly if he was going to kiss her. Then he looked away, and muttered, “If he ever does touch you, tell me.” 

 

“Oh,” she went to chirp something again, she wasn’t sure what, but then he unlocked the door. 

 

“Have a nice night, Stark,” he said with a note of finality.

 

“You too, Clegane,” she said softly and then dropped out onto the curb. He waited until she’d found the key they kept hidden in a potted plant for when Mar lost her keys and had let herself in before he slowly left. Sansa waited until she couldn’t hear the rumble of the truck anymore before sinking down on the couch and pulling her heels off. She absentmindedly ate her first roll and then got up, going to find her computer. 

 

“Hey,” Gilly’s voice startled her, what felt like hours later. Sansa sat up and snapped her laptop shut. “What’s up?” 

 

“Nothing,” Sansa uttered, a hair too quickly. “Watching some footage of Theon’s games.” It was a boldfaced lie, but she had no other way to explain the fact that she was watching Sandor Clegane’s top NHL fights. 

 

“Oh, okay,” Gilly didn’t skip a beat. “Everything alright? Why’d you have to leave?” 

 

“Oh, you know,” Sansa tried for a shrug as Gilly kicked her heels off and grabbed a blanket from the other end of the couch, coming to lay on Sansa legs. “Bran and stuff. Robb has Rickon, so he just called to say hi. He misses us.” 

 

“We should go visit them,” Gilly muttered, her eyes drifting shut. “I haven’t seen Robb in ages.” 

 

“Mhmm,” Sansa gave a noncommittal hum, running her fingers through Gilly’s dark hair. “Get everyone home safe?” 

 

“Tried to,” Gilly gave a massive yawn. “I tried to steer the littles away from frat row, but you know.” 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa said a little sadly, thinking about the nights with cheap vodka mixed with energy drinks and the desperate need to fit in. “Well, they’ll call if they need anything.” 

 

“Yeah,” Gilly snuggled in further. “Hey, can I just crash here tonight?” 

 

“Sure babes,” Sansa pulled out her phone, opening her Instagram app as Gilly drifted to sleep. Feeling very foolish, Sansa decided to find out if Sandor Clegane had a girlfriend or not. 

 

When she finally fell asleep on the couch with Gilly, her phone slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground, Sandor Clegane’s photo pulled up on the screen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the love and support of all of you and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do - updates on Saturdays (usually) and next chapter previews on my tumblr on Sundays! 
> 
> (also ps the title of each chapter is something that Minnesota has gifted to the rest of the world, so ya welcome in advance)
> 
> blessings!!!!


	2. Target

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow!!! All I can say is I am so overwhelmed and grateful at the response this has gotten - it is truly, truly beyond my wildest dreams. You guys are amazing and wonderful and the support for this little hobby fic is just urgh. Adoration. Chapter two, given with love!!!
> 
> And yes, us Minnysotans gave you Target. For those of you who know the bulleyes heaven of which I speak, you're welcome. And for those of you who don't.... I am so sorry.

Sansa quietly set her things down along the wall and looked around with a smile. It was rare to get a studio all to herself, but waking up at the crack of dawn to squeeze in a workout meant that they hadn’t been taken over yet. She let her long red hair down and ran her fingers through the sweaty mess. Then she pulled it into a tight bun on the top of her head, watching herself in the mirror. 

 

She was wearing just her spandex and a shorts bra. Her top had been shed on mile four on the elliptical, and as she kicked off her running shoes and socks, she wished she’d brought a change of clothes. But she had a quiet studio to herself and she wasn’t going to change that for the world. Instead, she placed her phone on the system on the wall and scrolled thoughtfully through her various dance playlists. 

 

She didn’t want to do hiphop since they’d be doing that at practice today. And she didn’t want to do lyrical or jazz. She selected her classical playlist with a smile and went to pull her pointe shoes out of her bag. She sat down, pulling them on and carefully standing, stretching and rolling her ankles. 

 

Pointe had always been her favorite, since she was young. The day her teacher had deemed her old enough to go en pointe for the first time was the happiest memory Sansa had of dance. She hadn’t been in her pointe shoes since returning to campus weeks ago so she took it slow, rolling up and en pointe, beaming when her body responded like it’d never forgotten how to do it. 

 

She did some barre work, stretching her tired muscles, following the patterns she taught her own students. Then, once she finally felt loose enough, she went to the middle of the room, inspecting her odd outfit in the mirror. The combination of the elegant satin shoes, contrasting with the bright, neon spandex, make her chuckle. 

 

Then, making sure that the floor was clean, she began a series of turns on her toes. Foettes were her favorite and after a moment, she decided to see how many she could do—she’d made it past twenty this summer and wondered how high she could get before she lost her spot. 

 

After she’d finally made herself dizzy she stopped and had to laugh. She took a break for water, checking her phone. The only thing she had was a text from Jeyne, who was astonished at how early Sansa rose, even if classes didn’t truly start for another week. Sansa set her a picture of the empty studio as an explanation, before putting her phone back down. 

 

She was working on the combination from Kingdom of the Shades when she turned and saw Clegane’s face, staring at her through the glass. For a second, her heart stopped, but she recovered with ease and smiled widely at him, beckoning for him to come in. She had no idea why, but she wanted to say hello. Awkwardly, he pushed the door open and stuck in his head. 

 

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “What are you doing here so early?” Even as the words left her lips, she was calling herself stupid. He was here for an early morning workout, same as everyone else. He didn’t mock her however, just gave a little shrug. 

 

“Testing out circuits to run the boys through later,” he explained, looking around the studio. Realizing the speaker system was still blaring her classical music, Sansa hurried to shut it off. “You?” 

 

“This is the only time studios are open,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I don’t mind getting up early, so I like to come in for some lifting and cardio and then if I can get the space, I—” She gestured down at herself before realizing again how ridiculous her outfit looked and blushed. 

 

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just took in her bright spandex and her pointe shoes. She absentmindedly shifted her weight around, wondering what he saw then. A slow smile uncurled and then he looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“The little bird spins?” 

 

“Oh, yeah.” The tension in the room dissipated with Sansa’s startled laughter. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t know what I was going to do today, so I didn’t bother grabbing tights or anything… I know I look strange.” 

 

“No, it’s.…” For a second, Sansa glimpsed what might have been a true, genuine smile on his face. “Okay, yeah, it is.” 

 

“Oh, and if you thought heels were impressive, you should see me in these,” Sansa laughed and rose up en pointe, watching his eyes go wide. She did a couple of the steps she’d been working on previously, and when she came down, she saw honest and open admiration in his face. 

 

“How?” He asked her, staring at her feet and she grinned. 

 

“It’s easy, you just go up and balance on the flat part of the shoe, see?” She extended her leg so he could examine it. He stared at it, then at her. 

 

“But how? It’s tiny.” 

 

“So are hockey blades,” she reminded him with a grin and he shook his head. She did a few more steps, shamelessly showing off, and he watched her silently. 

 

“Why aren’t you dancing in New York or somewhere?” He asked her and she laughed. 

 

“I’m not that good,” she informed him and he raised an eyebrow, as if to question her. “I’m not, not really! Not trying to be faux humble or anything. But I’m too tall to be a ballerina.” It was the honest, and hard truth, she’d accepted in her early teens, when she’d sprouted up while her fellow dancers remained stubbornly short. Her teachers had frowned and clucked their tongues and she’d resigned herself to the fact that she’d never be a prima ballerina. 

 

“You’re the perfect height,” he said roughly and Sansa’s heart forgot its rhythm for a moment. She knew she was tall, especially for a girl, even more so when she wore heels or was en pointe. But if she was tall, he was massive, and she was willing to bet he nearly cleared 7 feet in his hockey skates. 

 

“Tell my teachers that,” she said, attempting to weakly joke and he was quiet, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms. For a second, Sansa had no clue what to do, before he raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Dance then, little bird.” 

 

“What would you like to see?” She had no idea how to explain why her heart thrilled at his request. He gave a short bark of laughter, and shrugged one shoulder. 

 

“You think I know?” 

 

“Alright, fine,” cheeks flaming, Sansa went back to her phone, scrolling through the playlists, ignoring how her pulse fluttered in her wrists and throat. She’d performed for hundreds, thousands of people before. She’d won National titles, she’d been on ESPN, in front of millions. This was nothing, she told herself, settling on a solo she’d done a few years ago for a winter showcase and still loved dearly. 

 

She took her place in the corner, glancing at him with a grin, stretching her arms high above her and taking a deep breath. Then, when the classical music filled the space, she danced, and forgot that anyone was there. 

 

She forgot some of the passes, coming out of her turns a breath too early, but for the most part, she remembered the steps in the way only muscle memory could. The solo had been her favorite, and she’d practiced at the studio, at home, at school, wherever she could, making sure she knew the piece expertly. Even now, years later, her body flowed through it before her mind could even try to tell it what to do. 

 

The solo ended with a series of turns that left her with her face turned upwards to the sky, chest heaving. She held it for a moment, listening to the strains of the music die. She remembered performing this, how her entire family had been there, and had stood, cheering. She’d felt like a star that night, showered in red roses and proud hugs, even from Arya. 

 

Slow clapping broke her memories and she turned to beam at him. Sandor Clegane was applauding her, looking more than a little thunderstruck, and she suddenly, desperately wished she had done it properly. 

 

“It’s prettier with a tutu and hair and makeup,” she said needlessly, self-consciously reaching up to the messy bun that was her hair. He ignored that, gaze steady on her face. For a second, Sansa felt like none of it mattered. All that mattered was his grey eyes on her blue and the electricity between them. 

 

“It’s pretty enough,” he broke the silence then and she remembered his words about her being pretty. She couldn’t help but beam. “Is that how your team dances?” 

 

“Oh, no, not really,” Sansa relaxed, knowing she could talk about dance forever. “We do a lot of different types, and it all depends on where we’re performing. We do a more hip hop influenced dance for football, and we compete in pom and jazz, and—” 

 

“Pom?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

 

“It’s kinda like cheerleading,” she explained, well accustomed to this. She’d spent an afternoon bickering with Robb about the different between pom and cheerleading, ending with her throwing a shoe at his head. 

 

“And jazz?” He questioned and she smiled. 

 

“It’s like ballet, but without the pointe shoes. We do turns, leaps, lifts, allusions, all that stuff.” She loved jazz the most, and she knew she was best at it. Her leaps and jumps were her strongest suit and she’d been highlighted last year, much to her delight. 

 

“Oh.” She could tell he didn’t understand what she meant, and she smiled. Boys, especially hockey boys, never did. Anyone who didn’t dance never understood. 

 

“If you come to games, you’ll see the difference,” she offered, trying to be subtle. He raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Do you perform at hockey games?” 

 

“No,” she said as she burst with laughter at the idea of Margaery or Shae on skates. “I mean,” she reigned herself in when she saw that he looked a little offended, “girls that were figure skaters usually do that. I don’t think some of the girls on the team even know how to skate, except for Gilly and Ygritte and Jeyne and me.” 

 

“You can skate?” He looked a little surprised by that. 

 

“Yes,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Everyone is so shocked, but I did grow up with hockey players. I wasn’t completely useless and they needed me to play if they wanted even numbers.” She didn’t tell him that whichever team had her also got Theon, and that usually evened things out fairly enough. 

 

“Huh. Didn’t think Ned Stark, football god, would let his kids do anything other than football,” he remarked as Sansa sat down on the floor, undoing her shoes. Her stomach was rumbling and she had a day of back to school shopping planned with her friends. As much as she didn’t want to leave him, they’d ask questions if she was late. 

 

“He let us do whatever we wanted, as long as it kept us out of the house,” Sansa informed him, smiling at the fond memories. “Otherwise he said we’d tear down the house and drive our mother mad. So we all played multiple sports.”

 

 

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow and Sansa nodded. 

 

“Yeah, his only rule was no basketball. He hates basketball.” 

 

“So what did you play then?” he asked her and Sansa rolled into her splits for a moment, savoring the stretch. 

 

“I danced, mostly. But I rode horses and ran track and swam some. Now I do yoga, pilates, cycling, all that stuff.” Sansa noted how his eyes followed her stretching and flushed with shameless pride. 

 

“Your brothers then?” Did she hear a note of strain in his voice? 

 

“Football, all of them,” she said, rolling to her other side and pointing and flexing her toes. “Theon was pretty good, actually, but he was better at hockey. He ran track with me too. Robb wrestled, but he was decent on skates. He was a golf state champ his junior year. Jon was the best at everything. He could play any sport, football, hockey, lacrosse, baseball, wrestling, golf, anything. Dad said Jon had more natural talent in his thumb than Dad did in his whole body.” 

 

“And he didn’t play in college?” he asked in disbelief. “Anything?” 

 

“Nope,” Sansa stood and went to gather her things up. “Jon is… stubborn. He always asked why we played sports, why we glorified athletes, why we thought it was so important, why we paid them so much money.” 

 

“One of those,” he snorted, as she pulled a tank top on over her sports bra, slipping on flip flops. 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa shrugged. “But he’s happy off in the north, making movies and stuff. Rickon might give him a run for his money though.” 

 

“He that good?” he questioned her, as she slung her bag over her shoulder. 

 

“You should watch him for yourself sometimes,” she said with a mischievous smile, ignoring the fact that it sounded very much like she was asking him out on a date. 

 

“Mhmm,” he made a noncommittal noise and she fought not to berate herself. “He plays for…?” 

 

“St. Thomas Academy,” Sansa responded, turning the studio lights off and following him out into the hallway. They began meandering towards the exit. “My parents started threatening him with military school when he was like nine and then it stopped being a joke, really. He’s… unruly, sometimes.” 

 

“Military school, huh?” He walked with her towards the stairs. 

 

“Yeah, we all got threatened with it, some way or another. Except me, and Bran.” Sansa said it with a note of pride. 

 

“So you didn’t go there?” he asked, glancing at her. 

 

“Nope. Go Trojans,” she said, grinning and when his brow furrowed, she explained, “I went to Wayzata.” 

 

“Ah,” that name he knew, “big school. Good at everything.” 

 

“That’s us,” she said with a grin. “And better than Edina, remember that.” He chortled, and they walked into the rapidly warming summer air. 

 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, glancing at her. “You, uh, need a ride?” 

 

“Nah, I have my bike,” she answered, sincerely wishing she didn’t. She might have been imagining it, but she hoped she saw his face fall, just a little bit. 

 

“Ah, well, get home safe then,” he told her, heading for the parking lot. 

 

“Wait!” She called after him and he stopped, turning to her with a curious expression. “I’m the only one of my friends who gets up this early.” When he frowned slightly, she added, “I really do like Starbucks, and I don’t care if it makes me basic, but I can’t drink it after noon or I get too jittery to sleep.…” She trailed off, praying he understood what she was hoping he’d ask. 

 

“No Starbucks,” he decided and she worked hard not to burst into a grin. “I like actual coffee houses.” 

 

“Well then you’ll have to show me,” she said sweetly, taking a step back and he cocked his head like a dog might, before she turned her back and strode away, beaming widely now that he couldn’t see her. 

 

She practically floated home, grinning like an idiot. When she got out of the shower, Jeyne was up and making herself breakfast. She glanced up, took one look at Sansa’s face, and groaned. 

 

“Who is it now then?” she demanded. Sansa looked at her, affronted. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You only smile like that when you’re all in love with a guy. God, the last time I saw you at this level of sickening was Joffrey.” Jeyne pointed a knife covered in peanut butter at her. “If it’s Joffrey again, I’ll cut off his dick.” 

 

“Not Joffrey,” Sansa assured her. “It’s no one. Just saw some cute guys when I went for a run today.” 

 

“I should go to the rec more often then, if you see cute boys,” Jeyne said thoughtfully and Sansa went into her room to dry her hair, keeping her blushes and smiles to herself.

 

Sansa went shopping with the girls, but she was distracted the entire time. As Jeyne chattered about the first official football game of the season this weekend, and the beginning of school shortly thereafter, Sansa was lost in her own thoughts. She drifted between the stores with them, nodding along when Ros held up a skimpy top or Margaery stopped to pluck tall stilettos off the shelf, declaring that she had to have them. Sansa thought about Sandor Clegane, despite trying rather hard not to, and shopping held no interest for her.

She refused to let herself even consider that they had been flirting in the studio, even though the nagging voice in the back of her head said it was just that. He was older than her, by a slim margin of a decade, and a professional to boot. He was a coach and she was just a student. She knew, logically, that it wasn't actually wrong by legal or even moral standards. Her own parents had an age gap themselves, and her aunt Lysa had a husband who was practically Sansa's grandfather's age. It wasn't that big of a deal.

But there was a nagging part of her that was laughing, saying that it was a cliché, that it wasn't quite the professor and the student, but damn close. She refused to play into the damaged daughter trope, she told herself firmly as Jeyne held up two identical bras, debating aloud which was cuter. She had a good relationship with her father, and she wasn't seeking to be fixed or protected or cared for by some older man. Her attraction to Sandor stemmed from something else, she just wasn't sure what. She was not damaged, she was not broken, she did not have daddy issues.

She did, however, that same insidious voice whispered, have relationship issues. She didn’t want to admit it, she didn't even want to think about it, but as she agreed that it was acceptable to spend several hundred dollars on outfits for upcoming sorority events, she caved to her own thoughts that Joffrey had done more to her than she would ever allow now. It wasn't that their relationship had ever really been good, but at the time it had seemed like her everything, and yet now it was paltry to look back at.

At the time, he had seemed so right for her. She the pretty, bubbly sorority girl who cheered on the football team and he the handsome, wealthy frat boy who showed up with expensive gifts and date nights to the best places in the cities. Her Instagram had constantly been filled with edited photos of the two of them, off to rule the world. Sansa had thought they were her parents all over again, and that they'd get married and have a family. She had been happy, but when Joffrey's dark side had come out, Sansa's whole world, and her perspective of it had been upended.

Life after Joffrey was a bit cynical, both of herself and others. No more parties. No more drinking. No more sloppy snaps of her on social media, and no more worrying if she was the sexiest Gopher on campus. Less time spent on outfits and hair, and absolute no time spent on boys. She couldn't trust herself to know the good ones from the bad, and she couldn't trust any male not to lie to her just simply so that they could get into her bed and her family's money. She would be polite, and sweet, and entirely unattainable, that had been the promise she'd made after she cried herself to sleep after watching the video of Joffrey punching her circulate on social media.

But Sandor made her feel like breaking that promise, she knew. There was a sense of dread that carried her all the way home to their apartment, even as the other girls examined their new purchases and bickered about where they wanted to eat. She tried to participate, but she kept worrying that one of these days he'd cross the lines and walls she'd built up for herself. Or worse, she'd let him in willingly, and try to broach the same walls she was sure he had to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews power the writer, and seriously, each one is cradled, treasured, and safely tucked away in my mind for the days when life is hard. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. 
> 
> (also if you ever have any questions on locations, slang, characters, etc plz let me know and I will answer them and put them in the guide k thx enjoy bye)


	3. Juicy Lucy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many ways can i say that i am so fucking overwhelmed at the fact that you guys love this strange little story so much? like my heart is filled with boundless joy
> 
> side note plz drop your tumblr in the reviews if you have one - i want to chill with more of you dorks. you're my kinda people
> 
> (also a Juicy Lucy is a hamburger with cheese in the center that was created in the cities and yes, it is the ultimate burger. not for vegetarians, lactose intolerant, or the weak)

“Game day, game day, game day, game day—” Margaery’s stupid chant resonated throughout the entire apartment and Sansa groaned, burying her head under her pillow in an attempt to block out the noise. “GAME DAY!” she sang, opening the door to Sansa’s room and beaming at her. 

 

“Go. Away,” Sansa muttered, throwing a stray pillow in the general direction of the door. Game day was the only thing that would get Margaery up before Sansa, who liked to savor her sleep on these long days.

 

“I can’t,” after a second, Sansa groaned when Margaery’s full body weight landed on top of her, the girl groping through the covers to find Sansa’s body buried under blankets.  “Because it’s game day!” 

 

“I know,” Sansa peeked out over the top of her comforter, seeing Margaery’s beaming face. “What time is it anyways?” 

 

“6:30,” Margaery said promptly, grinning when Sansa groaned and dove back under the covers. 

 

“Too early!” 

 

“Not too early,” Margaery began trying to pull Sansa out from under the sanctuary of blankets, away from her cozy nest of soft things. “You need to curl my hair, and I need to put false eyelashes on you and will you make french toast?” Margaery’s thin arms were surprisingly strong. After a few moments, Sansa had been freed from the confines of her bed, sitting on the floor while her friend grinned at her. 

 

“I want to go back to bed,” Sansa complained halfheartedly but stood up and grabbed a blanket and swung it around her shoulders. She meandered into the kitchen where Jeyne was standing, staring aimlessly into the fridge. 

 

“Where’s the kombucha?” she asked sleepily and Sansa shoved Margaery’s mixed drinks to the side, revealing the glass bottles. “Ah,” Jeyne snatched one and wandered off towards the couch while Sansa grabbed milk and bread, turning on the stove. 

 

“French toast?” Margaery said hopefully, turning on the TV. 

 

“French toast,” Sansa confirmed, grabbing the eggs. Both Margaery and Jeyne cheered, and Sansa smiled slightly. 

 

At home, she was always the one who cooked. With Robb and Theon and Jon usually moving so much they hardly had time for anything more than a granola bar or hot pocket, Sansa had been the first child of her mother’s to take an interest in cooking. Catelyn had taught her everything she knew, including some old tricks and family secrets. She didn’t mind cooking now, especially when it saved them from Margaery’s attempts that usually nearly burned the place down. 

 

She finished making the slices, putting strawberries and whipped cream on Margaery’s and extra syrup on Jeyne’s, setting them on the table. Both girls leapt up, leaving the TV playing some dramatic show about lovestruck teenagers. 

 

“You are a brilliant woman,” Jeyne said, in between shoveling bites into her mouth. “This is glorious.” 

 

“What snacks do you want me to pack?” Sansa asked them, going through what they had in the pantry. “Fruit?” 

 

“Energy bars!” 

 

“Alright,” Sansa began pulling things out. She knew how long the day would get, and how cranky the girls got cheering on an empty stomach. 

 

“Thanks mom!” Margaery brushed a kiss over Sansa’s cheek, throwing her things in the dishwasher. 

 

“Get my uniform ready too please!” Sansa called after her, finishing packing their snacks into her bag. 

 

“Yes ma’am! What are you doing with your hair?” 

 

Sansa decided on a braid, to keep it up off her neck in the hot weather. Already she saw that the temps were soaring and she groaned, knowing that they’d get little relief during the game. Margaery bounced around, getting things ready while Jeyne curled her hair. 

 

Sansa got dressed in the short maroon skirt and tight, gold tank top. She smoothed it out and inspected herself in the mirror, before sitting down to do her makeup. Halfway through Margaery tacked on her fake eyelashes and finished the rest, ensuring that Sansa looked like a doll. 

 

She didn’t mind wearing such thick makeup, and she didn’t want to even think about not doing so on camera in front of thousands of people. But she still traced her fingers lightly over her pale cheekbone and wished, momentarily, for Margaery’s bronzed glow. 

 

“Ok, we gotta go,” she called, standing by the door. Jeyne was still searching for her other shoe, and Margaery was fussing with her hair. The clock was ticking dangerously close to when they needed to be to the fieldhouse and Sansa was in no mood to receive a lecture from Mel. “Now, Mar, Jey, now, or we’re going to be late!” 

 

“We’re fine,” Margaery breezed past her, grinning. “You worry.” 

 

“There’s traffic,” Sansa reminded her, heading for her Jeep. “And just because you don’t mind being late, doesn’t mean I don’t.” 

 

“A queen is never late,” Margaery said regally, climbing into the Jeep like it was a carriage. “Everyone else is simply early.” 

 

“No,” Sansa slammed the door, turning on the Jeep. “You’re seriously just late.” Then she sped for the fieldhouse and their first performance.

 

Sansa loved performing. She’d always loved it, since she was little. It had made her parents laugh, made her brothers roll their eyes, and annoyed Arya to no end. But there was something incredibly fun about standing in front of thousands of cheering people, and showing off. No one else might’ve understood it, but her teammates did. 

 

Dany laughed, ruffling her pom-poms and tossing her silver hair over her shoulder, blowing kisses to her hulking o-lineman of a boyfriend, Drogo. Ygritte was beaming into the student section, all self confidence and proud of it. Sansa grinned, watching as the freshman trembled but tried to play it off, beaming widely. 

 

“Hey, is your family here?” Lyanna asked when the cheerleaders went to perform. Sansa nodded, swallowing a drink of water. 

 

“Yeah, they wanted to check on Arya,” Sansa told her, tossing the water bottle back down. Lyanna’s family had a longstanding relationship with the Stark’s, and Sansa had known her growing up. Lyanna was a bad ass who would never be caught dead in a tutu, but she was an excellent hip hop and acro dancer. 

 

“Everything alright with her?” Lyanna frowned slightly and Sansa flashed her a bright smile. 

 

“No, great!” It was a boldfaced, blatant lie. Sansa hadn’t checked in on her little sister since she moved in, and she hadn’t been planning on it. Arya’d been just as quiet, and the two sisters hadn’t spoken. If Arya was struggling or hated school, Sansa didn’t know in the slightest. She supposed she’d find out tonight when the family went out to eat after the game. 

 

“Oh, good. I just haven’t seen her around,” Lyanna smiled and went to go get back into formation. Sansa bit her lip, wondering if she’d been wrong to not check in on her little sister, but the first period was ending and they were shifting to be in front of the box seats. 

 

She began to look through the crowd, trying to find her parents. She knew they had season ticket seats, several rows up. After a moment, she scanned the crowd for a shade of red hair so similar to her own and found her mother, sitting next to Talisa and looking like she was striving to remain polite and interested. Talisa, on her part, was doing her best to keep talking, her bump dressed up with a ‘Future Gopher’ shirt. Sansa thought it was adorable. 

 

Robb was sitting on the other side of his wife, talking to Bran. Sansa was happily surprised to see that it looked like Bran just had a cane today, and she felt guilty for not checking in on him sooner. But next to her brothers sat her father, and next to him sat none other than Sandor Clegane. 

 

Sansa missed a step in the routine, stunned. Ros glanced at her, frowning slightly, but Sansa kept beaming and went into the next steps flawlessly. Once the action on the field had resumed, and she was free to stare, Sansa took a step back to be next to Gilly.

 

“Hey,” she said quietly, as to not attract attention from the other girls. “You see my dad, right?” 

 

“Ah,” Gilly paused, searching through the crowd. “Yeah, that’s him, with Robb, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa paused, struggling to keep her tone neutral. “Is he, uh, siting next to… Sandor Clegane, the boys hockey coach?” 

 

“Looks like it,” Gilly frowned slight. “Huh. I wonder how that happened. Do you know each other from hockey?” 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa took the lie and ran with it. “I just didn’t know he was coming.” Her father looked to be deeply engaged with him, gesturing with his hands in a manner that Sansa knew meant he was talking about football. 

 

“Where’s Arya and Rickon?” Gilly asked and Sansa’s frown deepened. 

 

“Student section, maybe,” she declared, hoping it was true. That was easier to puzzle out than why Sandor Clegane was sitting next to her father, looking incredibly unbothered. Then he looked down at her and Sansa felt like she was about to burst into flames. She hastily turned around to face the field. 

 

“Jeez, what’s brighter red, your cheeks or your hair?” Shae teased, moving to Sansa’s side. “What’s got you all wound up? Which cheerleader tried to get your number?” Shae glared suspiciously at the male freshmen cheerleaders. 

 

“None of them,” Sansa was trying to stay calm, ruffling her pom-poms to relieve some anxiety. “You know who Sandor Clegane is?” 

 

“The hockey coach?” Shae frowned slightly. “Yeah, I mean, I know of him. Big ass guy, ugly face?” 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa agreed, though personally she thought that the scars were handsome and that his height was appealing. “He’s sitting with my family, I just wasn’t sure why.” 

 

“Recruiting Rickon?” Shae suggested, shaking her head. “Damn, they start earlier and earlier every year. He’s what, twelve?” 

 

“Yeah, about to be thirteen,” Sansa said, frowning when she remembered that neither Rickon or Arya were sitting by her parents. “Just surprised me.” 

 

“Well, don’t stress about it,” Shae bumped her shoulder. “Don’t miss any steps though, or Mel will have your head.” 

 

“I know,” Sansa took a deep breath, shoving it out of her mind. “I won’t, promise.” 

 

“Alright.” Shae moved away, as they began another cheer. 

 

At halftime, they were performing in front of the student section and as Sansa set her pom-poms down and tried to give the freshman a reassuring smile, she wished they were back in front of her parents. She liked dancing a more modern style of hip hop, and she wondered if Sandor would see her. Would he watch? She shook her head to clear the thoughts and strode out into the formation, beaming. 

 

The song blared through the speakers and she tossed her hair back, knowing how the red shone in the sun. She could bump and grind with the best of them, Margaery included, and when she heard the cheers of the crowd, she was egged on to higher heights. 

 

She was part of the front row that ended in the splits, grinning proudly. She saw some freshman boys in the front row smacking each other and had to repress a laugh. She stood with a smug smile, looking over at a flushed Shireen. The young girl grinned back, looking overwhelmed. 

 

“You did so well,” Sansa complimented her, as they moved aside. 

 

“Think so?” Shireen was breathless, and Sansa laughed, nodding. 

 

“Yeah, trust me. The first time I went out there, I think I peed a little. You all did great,” she said honestly before glancing into the stands. The thinner crowd at halftime allowed her to see up into the bleachers and she paused, frowning slightly. She'd know that short figure midway up just about anywhere.

 

“What?” Shireen watched Sansa’s face with concern. 

 

“Nothing,” Sansa watched as Arya caught her eye and smirked. She was dressed in all black, the only concession to her school spirit being a maroon baseball hat turned backwards. She was surrounded by some other people, in similar outfits, and beside her, trying desperately to look cool and older than he was, was Rickon. Sansa gave Shireen’s shoulder a squeeze and went back to get a drink of water, trying to snuff out her annoyance at her sister. 

 

Would it hurt Arya to, just once, be proud of her? It was impressive to be a D1 athlete and even if her sister didn’t think dance was truly a sport, it wouldn’t kill her to at least cheer for her, would it? She bit back an angry curse and tried to plaster a happy, peppy smile on her face. 

 

The rest of the game dragged on. Sansa worked hard to not let her gaze drift to where most of her family sat, but the one time it did, she noticed that Clegane was now talking to Robb, both of them looking amused. 

 

“Is there something else cute in that section besides Robb?” Roslin asked her, as the fourth quarter winded down. 

 

“Married,” Sansa reminded her with a chuckle and Roslin shrugged. 

 

“Still cute.” 

 

“Just excited to talk to them.” Sansa didn’t have to lie about that at least. She was anxious to talk to her family and see what they’d been up to. She felt like she’d been gone for months, instead of a couple weeks, but even when she was home during the summer, she felt like everyone was always so busy, they never saw each other anyways. 

 

“Uh huh,” Roslin grinned. “Well, tell Robb I say hi then.” 

 

“And his wife,” Sansa winked and Roslin pretended to pout before turning to watch the team score another touchdown. 

 

After the game they had to listen to Mel’s appraisals. During this Sansa received a sharp look for missing a step, but overall their coach gave them all compliments and then turned them loose. Sansa went to grab her bag before heading towards where she knew her family tailgated, idly wondering if her favorite hockey coach had stuck around. She heard her family before she saw them, with Rickon’s yelling and her father’s booming voice. 

 

“Baby sister!” Robb was the first to spot her and he beamed. Sansa rolled her eyes at the affectionate nickname that Robb still called her despite the fact that she wasn’t the baby, nor even the younger sister. 

 

“Hi!” Sansa set her bag down on a stray chair and went to hug her big brother. “Sorry, I’m probably sweaty.” 

 

“You look amazing, as always,” Talisa followed Robb, grinning and Sansa beamed, reaching for the belly. 

 

“Speaking of amazing, look at this! You were barely showing last time I saw you!” She gushed. “You look so good! Oh my god, I’m going to be an aunt!” 

 

“Crazy, huh?” Robb grinned at Talisa with a tender expression and Sansa happily basked in their love. 

 

“Yeah, but I’ll be the favorite!” Arya boasted loudly. Sansa leaned around her sister in law to frown. Arya was sitting in their father’s truck bed, lounging in a lawn chair like it was a throne, smirking slightly. Beside her sat the people she’d been with at the game, and Sansa knew one of them was Meera Reed, the daughter of their father’s friend, and a few others she didn’t know. Sansa wondered where Bran and Jojen were. 

 

“As if,” Sansa scoffed. “Maybe if it’s a boy, but not if it’s a girl.” 

 

“Arya!” Their mother arrived, assisting Bran. She'd spotted the brown glass bottle that was dangling from Arya’s fingers. She hastily hid the beer, looking at least a little sorry. Ned laughed outright and came to hug Sansa. 

 

“You did so well today,” he said proudly and Sansa laughed. 

 

“Thanks, dad.” 

 

“Still crazy seeing you down there,” Catelyn mused, helping Bran sit before coming to kiss Sansa’s cheek. “You are such a good dancer, sweetie.” 

 

“Thanks, mom.” Sansa went to hug Bran. “How are you?” 

 

“Good,” he gave her a tight smile, relaxing slightly. “Little tired.” 

 

“You can come back to my place and rest,” she offered. “Before we go out to eat, I need to shower and change anyways. Besides…” she trailed off, realizing that Rickon hadn’t stormed into their camp to say hello to her yet, “where’s—”

 

“That way,” Ned took her arm, and Sansa looked up at him in confusion. “Come on, I better show you.” 

 

“What did he destroy?” Sansa asked, with worry, and Arya, scoffing, got out of the truck to follow them.

 

“Nothing, thanks to your friend,” she muttered and Sansa glanced back at her, frowning slightly. 

 

“What friend? What did who do?” Sansa demanded, before they emerged between two trucks and tents, and she stood in her tracks, causing Arya to nearly bump into her. “What the….” 

 

Sandor Clegane and Rickon Stark stood opposite each other in an open space in the parking lot, facing off. Each held a stick, though Clegane looked like his was a knee hockey stick. It was so bizarre, Sansa felt wild laughter begin to bubble up. 

 

Both he and her brother turned, the street hockey ball skittering across the pavement, forgotten. Clegane, for his part, gave what might have been a grimace or a smile, she wasn’t sure, and Rickon gave a half howl, half yodel, running for her. 

 

_“Sansaaaaaaaaaaa!”_

 

“Hi!” She caught him in a hug, and marveled at how he was almost as tall as her, despite their age difference. “What are you doing?” she asked, with her gaze locked on Clegane, who was walking over with a sheepish expression. 

 

“Playing hockey,” he gave the small stick a wave and Sansa swayed, still holding onto Rickon and turning to her father with raised eyebrows. 

 

“What’s happening?” she questioned, beyond lost. 

 

“Ask your sister,” Ned grinned and they all turned to Arya, who suddenly turned sullen. 

 

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, not really,” she insisted. Clegane made a noise, causing Sansa to glance at him. 

 

“So breaking and entering isn’t wrong?” he asked her and Sansa let go of Rickon to stare at her sister in disbelief. 

 

“Attempted,” Arya shot back. 

 

“Because I stopped you!” Clegane responded. Sansa looked between them in astonishment. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Your sister said she was taking Rickon to the bathroom,” her father stated, folding his arms as Sansa looked at him. “Instead, they tried to get into Mariucci.” 

 

“Why?” Sansa demanded. 

 

“Thought it’d be cool.” Arya gave a shrug. “I didn’t think anyone would be in there, not with everyone at the game, except he was, and he brought us back to dad.” She ended her explanation by glaring at Clegane and Sansa blinked a couple times. 

 

“Wicked,” Rickon said simply, before darting out to get the street hockey ball. 

 

“So he catches your children breaking into an arena, brings them back, and you invite him to the game?” Sansa asked her father and he smiled. 

 

“Arya took Rickon in the student section, so we had an extra place,” her father was all innocent. “I thought it appropriate thanks.”

 

“Why did you want to break into the arena?” Sansa turned to Arya, who rolled her eyes. 

 

“Because I wanted to see if I could,” she said, as if it should be obvious. Sansa stared at her blankly, then turned to Clegane. 

 

“Why didn’t you turn her in?” she demanded and she saw a hint of an amused sparkle in his eyes. 

 

“When I asked them their names, neither of them said Stark,” he informed them and Arya scowled at him. “Took me a second, but I remembered what you told me about her,” he jerked his thumb at Arya, who straightened up, affronted. 

 

“What did you say about me?” She glared at Sansa. 

 

“Only that we’re opposites in every way,” Sansa said, omitting her other words. 

 

“Yeah, I would never be caught dead shaking my ass in front of the student section because I’m an attention whore,” Arya jabbed and Ned gave her a stern look.

 

“Arya.” 

 

“Whatever,” she narrowed her eyes at her older sister. “C’mon Rickon, let’s go see if you can break a beer bottle with your slap shot.” 

 

“Go,” Ned said when Rickon wavered, looking between Arya and Clegane. Both of her younger siblings headed back for camp, and Sansa looked at her father in disbelief. 

 

“She’s going to get arrested eventually and I am not bailing her out,” she declared fiercely. 

 

“Wouldn’t dare ask it of you,” he seemed amused, for some reason. “All she’d have to do is tell them she’s Theon’s little sister, and they’d charge it to my ongoing tab.” 

 

“Well,” Sansa had to smile at that. Theon had ended up in the drunk tank more times than any of them could count. “She doesn’t need to drag Rickon into things.” 

 

“Leave that to me and your mother.” He kissed her forehead and offered his hand to Clegane. “Thank you again for not shoving my rowdy children in a locker,” he said solemnly. 

 

“They do it again, I will.” Clegane shook his hand and Ned chortled before giving Sansa a look and leaving. 

 

“I am so sorry,” Sansa apologized instantly to him, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know why she’s like that, and Rickon’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better, I’m so—”

 

“Chirping,” he muttered, fiddling with the stick. Sansa wanted to laugh again at how small it looked in comparison to his frame. 

 

“Sorry,” she repeated again before she could help it. He gave her a look and she fell silent, hiding a small smile. 

 

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” he stated, after a long pause. 

 

“About what?” She frowned slightly. 

 

“She’s pretty opposite of you,” he told her, making her laugh. 

 

“Yeah, we’re night and day.” She undid her braid and raked her hair back, warm in the sun. “I certainly would never try to break into an arena for the hell of it.” 

 

“No?” he questioned and she grinned at him.

 

“No, I know a guy with some keys.”

 

“Ah,” he chortled at that and gave her an appraising look. Sansa grinned at him and took a step closer. His hand raised and for a second, the pads of his fingers brushed over the little ‘M’ face tattoo she’d placed beneath her left eye. “You’re not an attention whore.” 

 

“No, I am,” Sansa had to roll her eyes. “It’s not like I don’t know it. I like having attention. I need it to perform. It’s who I’ve been since I was a kid. The difference is I can say it and she can’t.” 

 

“You’re good,” he said awkwardly and she tilted her head, smiling slightly. He stumbled over his next words. “I mean, at dance. At… that. I didn’t—it wasn’t like, you know, what you showed me. In the studio, I mean. It was different, but a good different. Not… ass shaking,” he finished lamely and she burst into laughter. 

 

“Sorry,” she said between giggles. “Sorry, it’s not… I mean, hip hop is ass shaking. It’s what it is. There’s different types. It’s not all ass shaking, promise.”

 

“Alright.” He looked sufficiently embarrassed, so Sansa took pity on him. 

 

“But thank you, again,” she laid a hand on his arm. “I really do appreciate it. And then spending the game with my family? Brave move.” 

 

“Well, they’re alright.” He looked relieved to be back on safe ground. “Talisa is sweet. Your mom’s nice. Dad knows a lot of football, and a decent amount about hockey. Robb too. And Rickon…” 

 

“Good, huh?” Sansa grinned. 

 

“He might be, with practice,” he said roughly and Sansa laughed. 

 

“Okay, c’mon.” Sansa looped her arm with his. “I think I need a drink.”

 

“Ah, I better go.” He carefully disentangled himself from her, with a wince. Sansa let her arm drop, suddenly dejected. “I need to… shower.” 

 

“Oh, okay.” She grabbed her forearm behind her back, trying to plaster a smile on her face once again. “Well, thanks again, honestly. See you around, maybe?” 

 

“Uh, sure.” He gave an awkward wiggle of his fingers, handed her the hockey stick and then wove between some cars, disappearing. Sansa paused for a moment, trying to figure out why her day seemed to have gotten a little worse. She wandered back to her family, biting her lip, tossing the stick at Rickon.

 

“So, San….” Robb said loudly, when she sat down beside Talisa and dug around in a cooler for something to drink. “Sandor Clegane?” 

 

“What about him?” she demanded, making a face at the lack of something sweet and fruity and alcoholic. 

 

“He said he knows you.” Catelyn looked intrigued and Sansa pulled a water out, feeling a dehydration headache coming on. 

 

“We met at the alumni donor thing,” she explained, feeling unjustly annoyed at her family. “You’re lucky it was him, Arya, because if it had been security, they would’ve thrown you in jail.” 

 

“Okay, whatever,” Arya rolled her eyes. 

 

“Well, he seems nice enough,” Ned told her and Sansa had to bite back the urge to snap at him. 

 

“I need to go home and shower,” she decided, standing. “Bran, do you want to come with me?” 

 

“We can pack things up and meet you there?” Catelyn suggested, eyeing her and Sansa nodded shortly. She gave them a wane smile and headed home, unaccountably angry at nothing at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said i honestly get like a little heart flutter when you guys review - it makes writing this so much easier
> 
> thank you for sharing this with me. blessings blessings blessings


	4. Caribou Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hi yes let me firstly say how thankful i am each of you is here reading this  
> a couple things, the song Sansa dances to is Como Antes by Yandel and it's a bop. also i update the guide on tumblr with slang and such so if you ever have any questions ask me and i'll throw the answer on there too. 
> 
> ok that's all please enjoy you are all wonderful

Sansa stared into the mirror, face red and hair messy. She had the studio to herself again, and she was angry. Not even a long run and enough crunches to kill her could fix it. She was mad, she was frustrated, she was out of sorts. And she had been since Saturday, when stupid Sandor Clegane had walked away from her.

 

It was utterly stupid. Of course he’d left. Why would he want to hang out with her family? Except he had, until she showed up. Which pointed to the fact that he didn’t want to hang out with her, and somehow that stung worse. She yanked on her hair tie and the red came down around her face and shoulders.

 

She shook it out, relishing it. She moved to her phone, scrolling past the classical music and the lyrical, the jazz and the soft melodies. She was angry. She wanted to throw things and kick shit, and there was only one playlist she could listen to in this mood.

 

She chose the song with the thumping bass, hitting play and striding into the middle of the room, looking down at the floor as the music filled the space, loud and forceful, and she let her hips match the beat.

 

Sansa studied Spanish, and she’d loved the Latin influenced dances since she was old enough to understand how to move her body that way. She and Shae often blared popular Latino songs during cardio, miffing Ros and Margaery who preferred the newest pop hits of pre-pubescent boys. But there was something about Spanish songs, with the pulsing beat, the building chorus, that felt freeing to Sansa.

 

She moved her hips and writhed across the studio, trying to remember Shae’s words.

 

_Latinos dance like they’re in love—like they’re going to fuck you with their last breath. If it’s the last thing they do, they’re going to worship you._

 

The song she’d chosen was their current obsession. The music video was filled with scantily clad girls dancing seductively and Sansa did her best to mirror them. With her hair down, dressed in only short spandex and a flimsy yoga bra, it was easy to pretend she was in the hot streets of Mexico, pressed up against a man who moved his hips in time with hers.

 

She was shaking her ass, working on a move she’d seen a girl use in the music video and wanted to try, when the song started over and she paused, moving back to the center of the studio. She was a dancer in the video and ignored that she was a skinny white girl, barefoot, in a studio in Minnesota.

 

No, she was sexy, dressed in a thong and fishnets, a plunging top that showed off what little bit of cleavage she did have, and she had thigh high boots on. It was easy enough to picture, and she lost herself in the dance, in the way she only ever could.

 

This time, when the song ended, she pushed her sweaty hair back and looked in the mirror. She froze when she realized that at some point in the dance, Sandor Clegane had walked into the studio and was staring at her in a mixture of awe and something else.

 

Sansa wanted to die. That kind of dancing was fun, but not always for just anyone’s eyes. If her mother or father saw her dancing that like, they’d faint. Jon and Robb would lock her in her room. Arya would have names stronger than ‘attention whore’. It was for clubs, for street dances, in private studios where other dancers understood that being provocative, being sexy, was just another way of dancing.

 

“I—” she stammered and his eyes snapped up to her face. She stood there, trembling, as the song looped and began anew. After a second, he seemed to comprehend what was happening and gave a sort of half chuckle, half gasp. His grey eyes were raking over her body, but it was his shoulders that held tension, not hers.

 

“Again, little bird?”

 

It was a plea, it was a challenge, it was a request. Sansa had no idea what the hell it was. But she turned around, looking at herself in the mirror and deciding what the hell she was going to do. A second later, her body was moving of its own accord.

 

Dancing for someone else was a funny thing. Dancing for a crowd or an audience was fun and exciting, because it was so many eyes. But it was so many that it didn’t really matter if each person loved or hated it. All one had to do was win over the majority, and individuals faded into the background.

 

But when it was just one person? That meant all their attention, all their criticisms. One chance to win them over, one chance to make them love it. One chance, one focus, one person. Sansa was hypersensitive to every line of her body, every move, everything. It was like the strongest spotlight beamed down on her, when in reality it was only Sandor Clegane’s grey gaze.

 

But Sansa always did better with an audience. Always. As a kid, she’d dragged her older brothers to watch her, and when they got bored, commandeered her mother, her nannies, her tutors, her friends, whoever she could, to watch her. Arya called her an attention whore. Sansa called it her reason.

 

She didn’t hold back. She never wanted to, not again. Joffrey had called her a slut and a stripper when he realized that she could dance like this, and liked dancing like this. Sansa had thought it would be sexy. She didn’t realize it would enrage him. That’s what had ended it. He’d yelled at her in front of the entire school for shaking her ass for a guy in the front row. Sansa had been simply performing.

 

When she finished and raised her gaze to Clegane’s, she saw no rage, just astonishment. She blushed hard and hastily went to her phone to pause it, least the music start all over again. For a second the air seemed to tremble with the lack of noise. Then she spoke.

 

“Sorry, I….” The words died on her lips. She was sorry, for what? For dancing? She’d vowed to never apologize for that ever again. He was the one who’d barged in on her, who’d interrupted her, who’d been rude to her, and so she folded her arms and set her mouth, determined not to say sorry for a damned thing.

 

“How?” he asked, after wetting his lips. He looked anywhere but at her, as though he didn’t trust his gaze on her.

 

“How what?” Sansa’s guard slipped a little, unable to help herself. He didn’t look like he was going to mock her, he looked a little mystified and when he finally looked her in the eye, Sansa was astonished to see raw emotion there.

 

“Move like that.” His voice was filled with wonder. “How can you… do… that?”

 

“Do what?” Sansa put her hands on her hips, defenses back up. “Move like a stripper?”

 

“Sure,” he said without an ounce of malice. “And like a ballerina. And like you do at the games, and….” He trailed off and his eyes did another sweep of her body and she felt like flames licked her skin in the wake of his path.

 

“I dance,” she said simply.

 

“You said you were good,” he said it almost wryly after some thought and Sansa flushed with pride. Her anger was well and truly gone then.

 

“I don’t know,” she did a couple steps of a salsa, thinking of the smell of Sevilla’s streets during Feria. “Good body awareness I guess.”

 

“Body awareness,” he echoed her and Sansa smiled slightly.

 

“You know when you go in for a hit, and you know how much force you need, how much weight to shift, how to drop a shoulder and maneuver your skates?” she asked him and he looked surprised.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Dance is like that.” She pretended she was wearing her skirts and their massive ruffles, grinning as she did a step or two. “It’s just about knowing your body, knowing how to move it. If you know how to move your body, you can do any style of dance there is. Spatial awareness.”

 

“And that’s how you do… all that?” He gestured about the empty studio.

 

“Sure,” Sansa stopped dancing. “I mean, obviously it’s a lot more. You need strength, flexibility, memory, training, balance, all that. But really, the best dancers have something up here,” she tapped her head. “And something in here,” she tapped her chest. “And then you just move.”

 

“Just move,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t think I could do that in a million years.”

 

“Probably not,” Sansa’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much she was smiling and she really wanted to yell at herself. She just mad at him moments ago and all it took was a couple compliments and she was back to adoring and fawning over him.

 

“Hey, listen,” his voice dropped an octave deeper. “I was an ass, at the football game. I just… don’t do families well.”

 

“You were doing just fine until I got there.” Sansa couldn’t help the note of accusation in her voice. He reached a massive hand up and rubbed the back of his head, ducking like he was ashamed.

 

“I’d like to make it up to you,” he muttered, after a sufficiently awkward pause. Sansa stopped trying to crack her toes and stared at him in surprise.

 

“Oh,” her word was small and startled. Then, after a second, she found her wits. “How?”

 

“Proper coffee, maybe,” he flicked his eyes up to catch hers for a heartbeat. “If you want.”

 

“Oh,” she looked down at herself, sweaty from her workout and wearing hardly any clothes at all. “Should I—”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he gave a supremely unconcerned shrug. “Or I could grab you at your apartment, I’ve got some stuff at the arena I need to—”

 

“Give me twenty minutes,” she blurted out and he paused, blinking and then nodding.

 

“Yeah, ok, sounds great,” he gave a small smile, and after a moment, he was gone. She remained smiling until he was far away, before using a string of unsavory curses she’d learned from her father and began to throw things haphazardly in her bag. She sprinted for the bike she’d ridden to the rec center and frantically pedaled home.

 

She ran through the apartment, scrambling to pull off her sweaty clothes and throw her bag in the general direction of her bedroom. She swore loudly as she crashed into a doorframe and nailed her hip. Groaning, she yanked her spandex down and aimed them towards the vancinity of the dirty clothes basket.

 

“What the hell?” Jeyne croaked from the doorway, still half asleep.

 

“Sorry,” Sansa panted, sweating heavily. “I need—to shower.”

 

“And that consists of demolishing our apartment beforehand?” Jeyne nudged Sansa’s dirty clothes closer to the hamper as Sansa turned to water on and jumped in, uncaring if it was cold. She gave a little shriek when the icy water hit her skin.

 

“Sorry, I have to hurry or I’m going to be late!”

 

“Late for what?” Jeyne demanded. “It’s like, not even morning yet!”

 

“I know, that’s why we’re going for coffee!” Sansa frantically rubbed herself down with the organic soap her mother always insisted on buying for her.

 

“Who the hell is we?” Jeyne was baffled, standing outside the shower curtain.

 

“Go back to sleep!” Sansa ordered, washing her hair and praying that she’d remembered to buy some leave in conditioner. Then she could braid it back and when it dried, she would have nice, loose waves, and—

 

“Sansa Stark, if you do not tell me who this guy is this instant, I will tell all your brothers and Arya too,” Jeyne poked her head into the shower, unbothered by Sansa’s nudity and the rivulets of water splattering on her face.

 

“Cute guy from the gym,” Sansa was sure that at least wasn’t a lie.

 

“Student athlete?” Jeyne was still suspicious.

 

“Nope,” again, not technically a lie.

 

“Why’d he ask you out?” Jeyne demanded and Sansa flicked water at her.

 

“What, am I not cute enough or something?”

 

“Don’t deflect,” Jeyne said sternly. “Was it in a douche way or a nice way?”

 

“Nice way,” Sansa gave her as much of the truth as she dared. “He saw me dancing ballet and he wanted to know how I did it. We got to talking, and now, well, coffee. Which I am going to be late for, if you don’t leave me be!”

 

“Alright,” Jeyne withdrew. “But I can’t sleep through world war three like Mar can, so less bull in the china shop please.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sansa scrubbed her face, lamenting the lack of time to put on makeup. When she got out of the shower, Jeyne had nicely lined up the products that Sansa would need and she silently thanked her now sleeping best friend.

 

Once she’d toweled herself dry, she put on jean shorts and a loose fitting top with most of the back and sides missing. Gladiator sandals snaked up her calves and she was just pulling on her standard variety of bracelets and rings when her phone chimed, alerting her that her twenty minutes were up. She stumbled over a pair of Margaery’s forgotten heels as she rushed for the window. Like clockwork, a black truck pulled up to the curb and she cursed, adjusting an earring.

 

She grabbed her purse from where it’d been slung over the back of a kitchen chair and scrambled to remember her keys. Then she dashed down the flight of stairs, slipping her phone in her pocket and reaching up to grab the still wet strands of her hair to pull them back into a tight braid. When she neared his truck, he unlocked it and she climbed in.

 

“So,” he broke the silence after a moment as Sansa braided her hair. “What do your roommates think of this?”

 

“Oh, they don’t know,” Sansa gave a little laugh. “Neither of them were up when I got home.” She wondered when she’d become such an accomplished liar.

 

“No?” He shot her a dark look. “They sleep in till noon?”

 

“Later, for Margaery,” Sansa tied off the braid, wrapping her worn hair tie around the ends and inspecting them to see if any had split. “One day after a formal, she slept 28 hours straight. We thought she was dead.”

 

“What?” He looked at her in astonishment. “Really?”

 

“Uh huh,” Sansa checked her phone, noting a text from Jeyne that informed her that they would be discussing this later, over wine.

 

“Huh,” He stared straight ahead, stopping at a stoplight and drumming his fingers on the wheel. “College sounds nice.”

 

“Did you go?” Sansa drew her legs up to sit cross legged and he glanced at her then quickly went back to the road.

 

“No,” something flickered across his face. “Juniors.”

 

“Oh, nice,” Sansa inspected her bruised feet, wincing and wishing she’d gotten a pedicure beforehand. “That’s what Rickon wants to do, but mom wants him to finish high school properly, you know? She thinks it’s important.”

 

“He’d raise hell in juniors,” he had a small smile on his face, amused, and Sansa chuckled.

 

“He raises hell here. What’d you think of him?” She asked him, genuinely curious. It had seemed, before he’d left so abruptly, that he’d been getting along with Rickon. They’d been playing and Clegane had almost even smiled.

 

“He’s enough,” he said bluntly. Sansa blinked a couple times, staring at him.

 

“Enough? Enough what? Tall enough, strong enough, big enough, good enough, what?” She demanded and Clegane chuckled.

 

“He’s enough.”

 

Sansa huffed and crossed her arms, looking out the window as he navigated them through the city. He parked in a tiny parking lot, expertly pulling his truck into a spot that Sansa would’ve sworn it never would’ve fit into. She jumped down and looked at the modest brick storefront.

 

“Oh, I’ve never been here before,” she said, with a note of surprise and he came behind her, chortling.

 

“It’s not a Starbucks, princess.”

 

“Well, I get that,” Sansa trailed him into the store, feeling a little foolish. She liked to think of herself as just as hipster as the next, but when he walked in and the barista glanced up with a smile, Sansa felt basic indeed.

 

“Hey, Sandor. Regular?”

 

“Thanks,” he said, then looked down at Sansa. “What do you want?”

 

“Uh,” Sansa looked at the menu, resisting the urge to say something along the lines of ‘grande vanilla bean frappe’ and instead looking at the pastries as her stomach rumbled. “That lemon cake looks amazing. And can I get a medium mocha?”

 

“Sure,” the guy grabbed cups. “For here?”

 

“Yeah,” Clegane beat her to reaching for his wallet, slapping a couple bills down.

 

“Thanks,” Sansa said quietly and he brushed it off with a shrug. Sansa chose a quiet table in the corner with comfy chairs. She sat down and looked around, noting the cute details of the hip coffee shop. He sat down across from her, looking comically huge in the normal sized furniture.

 

“So,” he said awkwardly, waiting as the baristas happily made their drinks, clinking the cups and the machines.

 

“I like this place,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for introducing me to it.”

 

“Better than Starbucks?” he teased and Sansa glared before primly folding her hands.

 

“So,” she began, “how is my family? You probably know more about them than I do.” It wasn’t an exaggeration—Sansa had gone to a nice dinner with her family, but even without Jon and Theon, it had been chaos. She’d sat next to Talisa for the majority of it, giving the woman someone to chat with who wasn’t Sansa’s straight-laced mother.

 

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

 

“Not a lot of talking actually gets done in my family, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Sansa smiled up at the barista that brought her mocha and lemon cake, as well as a breakfast quiche and black coffee for her copartner.

 

“Alright,” he conceded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Your dad’s good. Thinking the Gophers need to round out their lower classes, or they’re going to be thin on talent if key players get injured before playoffs.”

 

“A good point.” Sansa broke off a bit of cake and ate it slowly. “Robb?”

 

“Very singleminded.” he cut into the quiche and it released steam. Sansa’s mouth watered. “Wants to improve company profits by end of Q3 and completely switch them to a digital system.”

 

“He and dad will butt heads over that. Thanksgiving is going to be a nightmare,” Sansa held back a smile. “And Bran?”

 

“Quiet. Nice. Smartest of all of you, isn’t he?” Clegane looked up at her, amused.

 

“And the handsomest, if you listen to him.” Sansa licked a bit of powder off her finger. “He must be getting better, if he’s down to just a cane.”

 

“Some days,” he took a bite of his quiche. “Gets tired too easily though.”

 

“I know.” Sansa felt a sting in her chest, like he was calling her out for being a bad sibling and not checking into her brother’s well-being more often.

 

“I know,” he said quietly, like he knew what she was thinking and she drank her mocha to quiet her nerves.

 

“What’d you think of my mom then?” she asked, in a forcedly light tone. She loved her mother, dearly, but it was always interesting to hear an outsider’s perception of her. His brow furrowed.

 

“Why does she hate Talisa so much?”

 

“Did you notice Talisa is pregnant?” Sansa asked. He frowned.

 

“Obviously. What’s that have anything to do with it?”

 

“They got married three months ago.”

 

“Oh,” he understood it then, because Talisa’s large belly marked her as someone that was much further than three months along. “And she’s due…”

 

“End of December,” Sansa smiled. “Robb didn’t want her to have to rush into a wedding. He would’ve been completely content to wait until after the baby came and done whatever then. But when they told us they were expecting, unwed, mom fainted. Literally, not just being dramatic. Eyes in the back of her head, crumpled on the ground, the whole nine yards. They got married to appease her, but let’s just say she’s not their first choice for him.”

 

“Oh, aye?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why? She’s pretty, and nice enough.”

 

“She’s not from here.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Dad asked Robb if she just wanted a green card. Robb decked him in the face. It was my favorite Easter so far.”

 

“Damn,” he chuckled.

 

“And they always thought he’d marry some cheerleader, like mom. Not the nursing student who studied and didn’t give a shit that Robb played for the Gophers,” Sansa grinned. “That’s why dad doesn’t like her, because she thinks sports are useless.”

 

“In your family?” He raised an eyebrow. “See how offense might be taken.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Sansa shrugged and licked her finger to wipe up some power left over from her lemon cake, “I don’t think they saw this coming from golden child Robb. Jon was always the kind of guy who didn’t give two shits, and it set him at odds with mom. I think that’s why he moved so far away.”

 

“Canada?” he asked. “Not that far.”

 

“Closer than Russia,” Sansa agreed. “But when Robb lives like six houses down, and Arya and I are in the same city, at the same college, a ten minute drive away, while Bran and Rickon still live with them, Canada seems like the moon.”

 

“Not the moon.” The idea seemed to amuse him.

 

“Yeah, you’re from Canada. Which part?” Sansa asked him, intrigued, and he gave her a look.

 

“Why don’t you ask Siri?”

 

“Alright,” she laughed and took a sip of her mocha. “That’s fair, I guess. I promise, no more googling answers. I’ll ask you and if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

 

“Fine,” he finished off his quiche. “I’m from the west. British Colombia.”

 

“Yeah, but where?” Sansa pressed. “Canada’s like, massive.”

 

“It is not.” He looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might actually smile.

 

“It is. Your states are like the size of the whole entire US,” Sansa argued, kicking her feet up.

 

“Are not.” He was arguing just for the sake of it, Sansa realized, and promptly shut up. After a long pause when he clearly figured out what she was doing, he allowed himself just a tiny smile. “Prince George then. Don’t pout like a sore loser.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Sansa flashed him a smile meant to blind him. “Born and raised then?”

 

“Aye, mostly.” He shifted in his seat, grimacing like she caused him great pain. “Got out of the house as soon as I could, went into hockey.”

 

“Siblings?” Sansa thought about her own house, how sometimes the only chance there was for any sort of quiet was to run or invest in good noise canceling headphones.

 

“Yeah,” he was gazing off to the side, away from her eyes, “gone now.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa stopped. She had no idea what it was like to lose a sibling; the closest she’d ever came was Bran’s sickness and that was difficult enough. They both took a long drink to subvert the awkward pause, and Sansa desperately cast her gaze around for anything to distract them. She landed on a wire sculpture of a tiny bird, wings spread in flight. She gasped and stood.

 

“What?” He glanced over his shoulder to see what she did, stopping when he saw that it was a little bird.

 

“This is so cute,” she muttered, walking towards it. It sat amidst a line of similar pieces, all little animals made from wire and bits of metal.

 

“Twenty-two bucks and it’s yours,” one of the baristas called. “Jackie, she makes them and works here.”

 

“Oh, I wish but no,” Sansa gave him a smile over her shoulder. “Broke college student and all.”

 

“Really?” Clegane had a look of disbelief when she sat back down. “Your dad doesn’t…”

 

“No,” Sansa clasped her mocha, affronted. “I mean, yeah he pays for a lot of stuff, I’m spoiled, I get that, whatever, but I don’t just have an unlimited debit card. Dad thinks that we all need to value hard work and stuff.”

 

“And stuff,” he rolled his eyes.

 

“I don’t just go around getting whatever,” Sansa glared at him. “I don’t get my credit card paid for, I don’t get whatever I want just because, I get good grades and I’m a student athlete and—”

 

“Calm down, little bird.” He took a drink of his coffee. “I’m not yelling at you. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“It is if you think that I’m some entitled brat,” Sansa declared. She knew those types. She lived with, and actively liked Margaery. She liked the girls on her team, she liked the other athletes. Most of them came from rich families. But that wasn’t Sansa.

 

“Nah, I know you’re not,” he took another drink. “That’s why I’m giving you shit.”

 

“That’s rude,” Sansa declared and he gave her an amused look.

 

“I told you that you Starks were different. I figured it out when Arya wouldn’t use her last name to get her out of trouble,” he reminded her and Sansa dropped her anger in the blink of any eye.

 

“Oh, yeah, speaking of that,” she questioned, “what in the hell were they doing exactly?”

 

“Rickon managed to pick the lock,” he told her, eyebrows raised, and Sansa nearly snorted her coffee.

 

“I did warn you. Unruly,” she reminded him and he grunted.

 

“Yeah, well, unruly isn’t very stealthy. I could’ve heard him in fucking Mississippi. I found them seeing if they could get on the ice. Why? No fucking clue.”

 

“To say she could,” Sansa muttered. That was always Arya’s way. The second someone told her no, she wanted nothing more than to do such a thing. It was infuriating. “That’s Arya in a nutshell.”

 

“Well,” he took another sip, “when I asked who they were I got first names only. I remembered what you’d said about them, but then she started talking, and I thought that she had to be your sister.”

 

“What did Rickon do?” Sansa asked interestedly, tapping her nails on the table. She wondered if Rickon had just gone along with the scheme or been guilty.

 

“Laughed,” he informed her and Sansa laughed a little.

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. He doesn’t take much seriously. Except hockey.”

 

“Clearly,” he remarked before giving her another curious look, like there was something he wanted to say but wasn’t quite ready yet. Sansa raised an eyebrow in return and took another sip. “So… the dance team is good. Right?” he asked a little skeptically and Sansa pretended to be affronted.

 

“I like to think we’re a little bit better than good. We’re the best,” she stated. “We’re national champions. Both pom and jazz.”

 

“Alright,” he folded his arms and sat back, “show me then.”

 

“Fine.” Sansa took her phone out. Last year’s performance of them at nationals was easy for her to find, and she queued it up, passing him the phone. He raised an eyebrow but pressed play, watching. The performance had been one of her favorite pieces they’d ever done, a Michael Jackson song edited to be dark and strong. She was hoping this year they’d have a piece equally challenging.

 

“Damn,” he muttered and Sansa knew from the music alone that he was at the turning section. Her hands fluttered as she marked the dance. Her muscles still knew what to do and likely always would.

 

“Uh huh,” she grinned, watching his face as he watched her. She usually got the same few reactions from people watching her dance. Awe. Surprise. Wonderment. Disbelief, usually followed by demands to see if she was that flexible, could really turn that fast, things like that. But her coffee date Sandor Clegane had none of those.

 

Something else was in his eyes, something that seemed almost a little tender. She had no idea what it might be, what he could be feeling. She just looked at him, watching him watch her, wondering why his eyed shined. When the music ended and he stopped it before another video could play, he looked up at her.

 

“You were the girl on the very end, weren’t you?” He asked and she nodded, finishing off her latte.

 

“Can you tell by the hair? That’s how my brothers always did it,” she tapped the cup. “Because we all look the same otherwise.”

 

“The same?” He was close to finishing his coffee and it made Sansa a little sad. Sooner than later their coffee date would be over, and she didn’t think she was ready. She nodded, taking her phone back to open her photos.

 

“Yeah, we do a lot of hair and makeup so that we all look similar and no one girl catches a judge’s eye,” she explained as she scrolled “See?” She held out the phone. She’d pulled up a photo of her and Jeyne before nationals, hugging each other and beaming into the camera. The makeup was extreme, she knew.

 

“Oh shit,” he agreed. “Yeah, I see how that’d be a lot.”

 

“It can be a little much,” she agreed, clicking her phone off and setting it back down. “You don’t need that much on ice, do you?”

 

“None at all,” he chortled.

 

“Tell me about playing hockey,” she requested. She wasn’t proud that she’d googled him and looked up all his stats, including his cup-winning season, but she was curious to see what’d he say about it.

 

“Not much to tell,” he said evasively, drinking his coffee and avoiding her gaze. “Just a couple guys playing puck.”

 

“My brothers would all kill for a shot to play in the show.” Sansa debated whether or not it would be rude to go up and get another coffee to keep their date going. “So it’s a little bit of a big deal I would say.”

 

“I got lucky,” he stated, a little deadpan.

 

“You don’t make it on luck alone,” Sansa scoffed. “No one does. Not even I do. Everyone thinks that I buy my spot on the team. Fine, fuck them. I work hard.”

 

“Do you buy the spot?” he asked her and Sansa frowned at him.

 

“Don’t change the question.”

 

“You didn’t ask me a question, you gave me an order.”

 

“Yeah, so answer it.”

 

“Fine,” he said, exasperated. “I grew up on the rink. Liked it there better than home anyways. You stay at the rink, run all the drills, hit about a million slap-shots a day, you start getting good. You grow up big and strong, you start getting a little better. Keep that up until you get into juniors, some scouts start to look. From there, it’s just a bunch of bullshit until you can pull that jersey on.”

 

“Hockey players are always so poetic when they’re talking about the game,” she sighed and he fixed her with a look. “What? You are.”

 

“I’m never fucking poetic, you remember that,” he growled and she gave him a mock salute. When he finished the rest of his coffee, she had to stop herself from frowning.

 

“Well?” she asked, casting a look around the coffee shop. A few more people were trickling in, but no one so much as gave them a second glance.

 

“Well what?” he questioned back, a little roughly, and Sansa gestured to the empty cups and crumbs.

 

“What should we do now?” she asked him and he blinked twice, like he was surprised at the question.

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” he asked her, with something like suspicion.

 

“I don’t care,” she did her best to sound supremely caviler. Her teammates were always telling her that guys didn’t like clingy girls. “Whatever.”

 

“Don’t you have classes?” he pointed out and she deflated a little. Of course he didn’t want to spend time with her. She was just a young college student and he was older. He probably had cute, smart, successful women interested in him.

 

“They start in a couple days,” she informed him. “Didn’t your hockey boys tell you all of that?”

 

“Be surprised if any of them go to fucking class,” he remarked under his breath, then stood. “I can take you back to your apartment then.”

 

“Thank you again for the treat, it was wonderful.” She pushed in her chair and gave him a bright smile. “I really enjoyed it.”

 

“Better than Starbucks?” He raised an eyebrow at her before giving a little wave to the baristas and held the door open.

 

“Oh, much,” she assured him. “I think you might have forever put me off chain coffee. Only the authentic for me from here on out.”

 

“Good,” he seemed almost amused with her as they headed back for his big black truck. He even opened the door for her again, and she pulled herself up and in. When he finally started it, Sansa had worked up the courage to ask,

 

“Any other places you want to show me?”

 

“What?” His head practically whipped to look at her, incredulously. She bit her lip but she had to forge on.

 

“Yeah, I mean, your coffee shop was such a smash hit, I thought I would see if you had any other hidden gems.”

 

“Aren’t you the one who grew up here?” he asked her, backing the truck up. “You should be taking me around.”

 

“Alright.” Sansa tried to be cool, but it was useless. She was too smiley, too happy. She could never contain her joy. He glanced at her and for a half second, something like a smile appeared back at her.

 

“Alright,” he agreed quietly.

 

They chatted as he drove her back to the apartment, Sansa trying hard to keep it light and breezy. The coffee was making her a little jittery, since she was more accustomed to tea. He talked about the upcoming season and asked about dance. She told him what little she knew, informing him that they’d fit for costumes and hear the cut music sometime soon. He nodded along, pulling up before her apartment. Sansa hovered, unsure.

 

“It really was fun. And thank you so much, again,” she said hastily. He fixed her with a partially stern, mostly amused look.

 

“Chirping, again.”

 

“Like a little bird.” Sansa grinned at the nickname of sorts. “Sorry. I mean it though.”

 

“Yeah, well repay me sometime with anything but chain shit, how’s that sound?” he asked and Sansa beamed. That sounded like an offer for a second date.

 

“Deal,” she said happily, opening the door, nearly leaping down. “Thank you! See you later! Have a good day! Bye!”

 

She walked up to her apartment, smiling like a fool. It was nearly nauseating, how delighted she was with her morning. She threw her purse onto the couch, reaching down to take her shoes off. Jeyne appeared from the other end of the couch, grinning.

 

“So how’d it go?” she demanded and Sansa found her water bottle in the fridge, turning to grin at her.

 

“So well. I think it went really fucking well.”

 

“Happy for you.” Jeyne still seemed a little skeptical. “But when are you going to tell us who this guy is?”

 

“Maybe never,” Sansa said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll just keep it a secret for all time, until I marry him and you have to show up at my wedding to see who it is.”

 

“Good luck with that,” Jeyne snorted. “Marg would pull that info out of you long before you made it to the aisle.”

 

“Fair point.” Sansa fell onto the couch, groping about for the remote. “Is there anything good on Netflix then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy labor day to all my USA buddies, i hope you have the day off to rest and relax. I myself will be looking at wedding venues, so plz send thoughts and prayers via reviews i love you all


	5. Grain Belt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as always you guys are amazing, i am so glad you're enjoying this, because i love writing it and it's my pride and joy
> 
> i love you all thank you
> 
> (also grain belt is a beer and if you are my father, you love beer. if you are me, it tastes like all beer -- buttcrack.)

“You’re coming out.” Jeyne was flat and insistent. 

 

“I am not.” Sansa remained unbothered, curled on her side in her bed, her laptop propped up on her pillow. Netflix was playing a stupid, sappy movie, and Sansa had purchased a special little container of gelato for this exact purpose. 

 

“But it’s basically the last night before classes start,” Jeyne protested, flinging her arms up. “The last chance for us to go out! To do anything at all! We have to do it.” 

 

“Mel will rake us over the hot coals if we do,” Sansa reminded her, though the threat was mostly empty. Their coach didn’t care what they did in the early weeks of the school year, but once Nationals drew close, she’d become stricter, something Jeyne knew as well.

 

“Mel doesn’t care,” she said eagerly. “It’s just Mel. Come on, this is like our only chance to go out and do stuff. Don’t be a party pooper.” 

 

“But I like my bed,” Sansa reminded her. “And I don’t even like drinking.” 

 

“I won’t even make you drink.” Jeyne blinked her eyes in an effort to seem sweeter. “Just come to hang out with us!” 

 

“And what, be your sober cab?” Sansa made a face. “No. Someone’s going to throw up in my Jeep and I’ll be pissed.” 

 

“We’ll get an Uber or a Lyft. I’ll pay,” Jeyne clasped her hands together. “Please Sansa, pretty please? Oh, please? Best friend?” 

 

“Fine,” Sansa caved and Jeyne gave a wild whoop of delight, springing up. “But you pay for the ride and my first drink!” 

 

“She’s even drinking, praise all the gods above and below!” Jeyne pretended to bow, hands raised. “What did I do to receive this blessing?” 

 

“Quit it or I’ll stay home,” Sansa threatened, but Jeyne was already in her closet, excitedly choosing Sansa’s outfit. 

 

They settled on a cute black miniskirt and a loose white tank top that didn’t make Sansa feel like a ghost. She was picking out her shoes when Jeyne appeared in her own outfit, a much more skimpy version of what Sansa had on. She did a twirl and flung her dark hair over her shoulder, looking to Sansa for approval.

 

“What do you think?” she asked as Sansa ignored her and focused on getting her earrings in. 

 

“I thought we were just going for drinks,” she said and Jeyne rolled her eyes, tossing Sansa some dazzling high heels. 

 

“Yes, but drinks lead to dancing, if you’d ever stay out late enough to find that out,” she informed her, and Sansa pulled on the shoes. 

 

“Don’t know why I would. Sleeping is so much more fun.” 

 

“You’re making it to bar close tonight,” Jeyne commanded. “If I have to chain you to the bar, I will. You’re making it to bar close!” 

 

“Okay,” Sansa swiped on some mascara, hoping to pacify her. “Bar close, Sansa Stark, sounds good.” 

 

They ended up going to a bar with no dance floor, which was fine with Sansa. Jeyne was a little put out, but it was Ygritte who chose the place, a neat little dive bar with cheap drinks, bouncers who didn’t look twice at any fake ids, and music that wasn’t overwhelmingly loud. Sansa squeezed between Jeyne and Ygritte, grinning. 

 

They’d been joined by Roslin and some of her friends, girls who were also art and theater people. They were dramatic and entertaining, and Sansa was happy that she wasn’t forced to be the center of attention. 

 

Ygritte hollered when some boys walked into the bar, and after a second, Sansa recognized several of them as hockey players. They raised their hands in greeting and got a few pitchers of beer, coming over to join them at one of the few remaining tables open. Ygritte left off her conversation with Sansa to yell at the boys. 

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded of one, a large boy whose last name was Kettleblack. Sansa wasn’t sure which Kettleblack he was, as there seemed to be at least three, but Ygritte was one of the few people who seemed to be able to tell them apart. 

 

“Getting drunk, same as you,” he declared, pouring himself a drink. “What are you doing here then?” 

 

“Last night of freedom,” Ygritte stated, pretending to be sad. “Then Mel puts us to work.” 

 

“Work?” The Kettleblack chortled. “I’ve seen what kind of work you dancers do. Doesn’t look too hard.” 

 

“Oi!” Ygritte yelped, affronted, and soon most of the boys were engaged in a war of sharp words with Ygritte, who could hold her own against several of them at once. Sansa was watching, amused, when the seat across from her become occupied. 

 

“Sansa,” Jon Umber had a smile that could melt the hearts of an ice queen, “Sansa Stark, at a bar. What would Theon say?” 

 

“Ask him, if you want to call Russia,” Sansa couldn’t help but return his grin. It was the contagious sort. Umber laughed, lifting his beer cup to his lips. 

 

“Fair enough,” he admitted. “Don’t think I’d like to pay that phone bill. How is that little shit?” 

 

“Good,” Sansa told him. “He’s having a lot of fun in the KHL. He calls like once or twice a month, if he’s not too busy on the road.” 

 

“Tell him I miss him then.” Umber had overlapped with Theon by just a year, a true freshman when Theon was a senior, but he still hung around with teammates Sansa’s age. Sansa liked him well enough. “What are you doing out?” 

 

“Trying something new,” she stated, fiddling with her straw. She knew that he had to know her reason for dropping out of the party scene, but he didn’t press it, just gave an approving sort of nod.

 

“Good. Glad to see your pretty face out and about. It’s good for you, see a little nightlife.” He took another drink and glanced around. “Anyone you see that you like?” 

 

“No,” Sansa answered a little too forcefully and he looked at her with a quizzical expression so she backtracked. “I mean, I’m just not into dating. Really. Not right now. I’m just… being me. You know, all that cliché stuff.” 

 

“Uh huh, sure.” The gaze he gave her over the top of his cup was all too knowing. “Or you already like someone. Come on, tell me then. I promised Theon I’d watch over all you Starks, all twenty of you.” 

 

“Seven,” Sansa corrected, but with a smile. “And I don’t like anyone, really.” 

 

“Is it me?” He pretended to be shocked. “Well Sansa, look, I’m flattered, but I can’t date Theon’s little sister, I mean, it’d be like dating Theon himself.” 

 

“We’re not even related, you ass.” Sansa was laughing now, loosened up from the drinks and Umber’s humor. His eyes were sparkling and a grin was playing at the corners of his mouth. “We don’t share an ounce of blood.” 

 

“You share a father, a big strong fucker, that’s enough for me,” Umber told her, standing when his cup was empty. “You want something?” 

 

“Uh,” Sansa looked down at her empty glass, then around at her group. Ygritte was still engrossed in an animated discussion with Kettleblack while Roslin held court with her friends. Jeyne was deeply engaged in flirting with an older man at the bar, so Sansa decided one more couldn’t hurt. “Sure,” she nodded. “Something sweet and fruity.” 

 

“Theon would be so disappointed,” Umber replied her, but went to the bar nonetheless. When he returned, it was with another beer for him, and something hot pink with a tiny umbrella in it for her. She laughed in delight and took it with thanks. She had a tiny sip while Umber settled in, sighing and looking around the bar. 

 

“Did Sandor Clegane ever coach you?” she blurted out, when the fruit juice and rum had been swallowed. Umber slid his gaze to her, confusion creating a divot between his eyebrows. Sansa blushed and went back to her drink, but the damage was already done. Umber leaned forward, elbows on the table. 

 

“Yeah, just a bit there at the end,” he said carefully, eyeing her. “Why?”

 

“Nothing,” Sansa tried to play it off. “He just caught Arya and Rickon trying to break into the arena and let them off easy. He seems like a nice guy. I just thought, you know, with Rickon hopefully playing here in a few years and all, if he’d be the kind of guy who’d hold something like that against a kid.” She thought she’d done well enough to dissuade any suspicion as to why she was asking after him. 

 

“I don’t think so, no.” Umber leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “No, he’s a good coach. Decent guy too. Old school hockey, just a little bit. Makes sure you’re tough, but he’s not going to beat it out of you like some. Arya’s idea, I assume?” 

 

“Always is,” Sansa said with a breathless smile. “He brought them to dad instead of calling the police.” 

 

“Yeah, he’s a good guy like that,” Umber nodded in agreement with his own statement. “Fair too. Just hates when people lie to him. Other than that, always hears people out. Works with you. When my dad died, you know, he was good about it. Made sure I was okay. Once you get past the face, there’s a lot deeper there.” 

 

“Always is with hockey boys,” Sansa joked, but she was too lost in thought to see the look Umber was giving her. She wondered if she’d seen past the face. She thought she had. After all, he’d taken her to coffee. He’d even told her a little bit about his past, his family. And he’d met her family. That counted for something, didn’t it? 

 

“Sansa,” Umber snapped his fingers in front of her face and she blinked, startling back into focus. 

 

“Sorry, what?” 

 

“I said, if you wanted an older man, I’m right here.” 

 

“It is not like that!” Sansa spluttered and Umber grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He ignored any and all of her protests, scrolling for a long couple moments before finding whatever it was he desired. A moment later Sansa’s phone vibrated. She picked it up with trepidation. 

 

Umber had shared one of his contacts with her, a number and the name ‘Coach - Clegane’. She glared at him until he laughed and smirked, standing with a shrug. 

 

“Thank me later, Sansa Stark. You’re welcome.” He rose, just a bit unsteady, and gave her one last wink. “Offer stands though.” 

 

“I….” Sansa had nothing else to say, so she simply saved the contact and watched as Umber wandered off. Unsure of what to do now, she turned back to Roslin with a shaky smile. 

 

In the end Jeyne kept her promise and called them a cab, but only after Sansa had joined in a rousing chorus of ‘Sweet Caroline’ with the rest of the patrons who’d made it to bar close. By the time they made it home to stumble into bed, Sansa’s world was spinning. She kicked off her shoes and yanked off her shirt, nearly sending her laptop crashing to the ground when she collapsed into bed. 

 

“Sweet Caroline… bum, bum, bum!” Jeyne was singing out in the hall, but Sansa ignored her, picking up her phone and bringing up a new message. For a long time she simply stared at her phone, wondering if she was as brave as she felt now, or if the alcohol alone was giving her courage. She hadn’t been this drunk since summer, when she tried to keep up with Robb and several of his frat brothers. Her worse decision that night had been to try to get in the hot tub shirtless. This had the potential to have much direr consequences, but her drunk self couldn’t be bothered to think of them in the moment. 

 

She willed her phone screen to cooperate with her fingers and mind. It took several tries, but after a long moment she successfully managed to wrangle her phone into pulling up a new message. She’d changed the name from ‘Coach Clegane’ to ‘Sandor Clegane’ but now she had no idea what to say. She yanked the covers up, staring at the phone screen. Her focus wasn’t great, but when she pressed send, she smiled. 

 

_Knight is shinnning armor , it s little birs!_

 

The vibrating of her phone startled her from dozing. It took her a long moment to find it beneath her pillows, but when she did, the name on the screen made her nearly fall out of her bed. Sandor Clegane’s response read with an air of confusion, but Sansa was so bewildered that he’d responded at all she had to read it several times. 

 

**Sansa fucking Stark? What the hell are you doing up? Where did you get my number?**

 

_Umberr. To Weird?_

 

_Wait_

 

_Why are youup ?_

 

**Not one for sleep. Not weird either. Why did Umber give you my fucking number?**

 

_I didnt akk him if thatd what your askin_

 

**I wasn’t asking but good to know. What are you doing? You’re either drunk or illiterate. Which is it?**

 

_Verrydrunk_

 

**Clearly. Home safe?**

 

_Yupp!_

 

**That’s good. Get some sleep then. And strong coffee in the morning, it’ll help. Ok?**

 

_Wit me?_

 

**You’re not going to want to go out in the public eye, trust me.**

 

_Ok. Why don you slep_

 

**Well currently I’m trying to decipher your texts. Normally it’s the insomnia.**

 

_No t good?_

 

**It’s fine little bird. Now you go to sleep, alright?**

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa awoke with a raging headache. Everything in her brain was screaming at her. She needed water, or perhaps death. She stayed as still as she could, wondering if she didn’t move, her body would shut down and stave off the surefire doom. She peeped out through the slits of her eyes, squinting. 

 

There was enough sunlight brightening up her room to indicate that it was well into the morning. She was on her back, under the uneven weight of several blankets. A pillow was under her arm, while another had offset her neck at an awkward angle. Cringing, she sat up slowly, trying to stop the world from accelerating on its axis. 

 

It took her what had to have been several years to get to the kitchen. She was reaching for water when Margaery appeared around the fridge, her brown eyes wide and amused. Sansa nearly shouted at the sight of her. Margaery laughed and Sansa flinched at the noise of it all, snatching the water. 

 

“Leave me alone,” she rasped, unscrewing the lid of the water bottle. 

 

“What did you do last night?” Margaery demanded, leaning against the counter. 

 

“Went out,” Sansa admitted and Margaery nearly dropped the banana she’d taken from the dish on the counter. “Jeyne forced me into it.” 

 

“And you actually went?” Margaery was incredulous. “You actually fucking went? I’ve been trying to get you to go out for, I don’t know, months. What did she bribe you with? What did it take?” 

 

“Stop it,” Sansa commanded, holding her head, sure that it was going to break apart if she let it go. “Shush. Less volume.” 

 

“I miss the one night you actually go out.” Margaery sounded mournful, shaking her head. 

 

“Yeah, where the fuck were you?” Sansa asked and Margaery grinned, peeling back the banana and taking a coy bite.

 

“Nowhere,” she said mischievously. 

 

“So it was a date then?” Sansa went to go sit on the couch, taking a drink. The water was like a potion for new life, soothing her throat. 

 

“You really should have Pedialyte,” Margaery advised. “I have some in the fridge, I could pour you a glass. Cures a hangover in a minute.”

 

“I’ll stick to water and some eggs later,” Sansa reassured her, closing her eyes and laying down on a fuzzy pillow. “Tell me about your date. Who was it with?” 

 

“Well, it wasn’t a date, not really, it was just a bunch of friends together. But! I knew that this totally hot guy was going to be there. We went out for drinks at….” Margaery’s vivid retelling of her night was enough to start to lull Sansa back into a doze, and she was nearly asleep again in minutes. 

 

When she awoke for the second time, she was less hungover. Margaery was in the kitchen, humming and cooking. Sansa peeked up over the couch in alarm, wondering what had possessed her roommate to do such a thing. After a moment of relief, she saw that it was only scrambled eggs. Even Margaery couldn’t mess those up. 

 

“Can I have a bite?” Sansa asked, rising and wrapping a soft blanket around her shoulders. Margaery chuckled. 

 

“Who do you think I’m making them for? You used to love eggs when you were hungover. With ham and peppers right?” 

 

“I can chop the peppers. You need to keep all your fingers,” Sansa declared, shedding the blanket and opening up the fridge. 

 

“Good point,” Margaery mused. Sansa grabbed the chopping board and a knife, looking towards Jeyne’s door with a frown. 

 

“She not up yet?” 

 

“Not since I’ve been home. But you get up freakishly early, and I haven’t gone to bed yet,” Margaery explained and Sansa cut the peppers. She handed them off to Margaery, before goingto crack Jeyne’s door open. She smiled slightly at her friend’s sprawling form beneath her sheets.

 

“She’s still asleep,” Sansa told Margaery, going to her own room. She brushed her hair and wound it carelessly up into a messy bun. Then she threw on an old teeshirt of Robb’s, and shorts. She went to her bed, patting around for her phone. It took several minutes, but eventually she found the slim device, half buried beneath her pillows and blankets. She was wandering back into the kitchen when she checked her numerous notifications, dismissing them for the most part. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want that Pedialyte? Seriously San, I swear by it, it’s the best thing to ever—Sansa?” Margaery looked at her in alarm, but Sansa was standing in the hallway, frozen with terror. She stared down at her phone, willing her mind to be playing tricks on her. “Sansa, what’s wrong?” 

 

“Oh! Nothing!” Sansa tried to give her a bright smile, as Margaery put down the eggs in alarm, coming to her.

 

“You sure?” She demanded, gripping Sansa’s upper arms and searching her face. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing,” Sansa repeated. “No, I just got a message from my mom that I misunderstood. It’s fine, I’m ok.” 

 

“For reals?” Margaery patted her cheek and Sansa nodded, still clutching her phone. 

 

“For reals,” she promised and satisfied, Margaery went back to their eggs, separating them onto two plates. “Hey, I’m going to brush my teeth first okay?” 

 

“Yeah, okay.” Margaery was distracted, trying to make coffee in Jeyne’s expensive French Press. Sansa wavered for a second, about to tell her to wait so she didn’t break it, before darting to the bathroom. She locked it and sank down on the toilet, pulling her phone back out to look down at the notification, mocking her. 

 

**It’s fine little bird. Now you go to sleep, alright?**

 

The name above the text listed it as coming from Sandor Clegane, but Sansa had no clue why he’d be texting her, or even why he would be. How’d he get her number? How’d she get his? Why was he telling her to go to sleep? The timestamp was nearly 3:30am. Why were they texting that late? 

 

With trembling hands, Sansa unlocked the message and scrolled up, reading the entirety of their whole conversation. To her horror, she realized her drunk self was the one to send the first message. She had gotten his number from Umber, she recalled as she read. He’d passed it along to her with a grin. 

 

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, cringing at how many words she’d misspelled. She had made a complete idiot out of herself. She cursed his insomnia, for the fact that he’d been awake and had carried on a conversation with her at all. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck me. Fuck this. Jesus fucking fuck.” 

 

She stood and jammed her phone in her pocket, snatching her toothbrush. She had no desire to let Margaery know what was wrong. She brushed her teeth with a furious sort of anger, until her gums hurt. Then she unlocked the door and went to have breakfast while pretending that nothing was amiss. 

 

“Fuck yes, is that eggs?” Jeyne ambled out of her bedroom when Sansa and Margaery were nearly done. “Save some for me?” 

 

“Yeah, but they’re Sansa style,” Margaery warned. 

 

“Fine by me, it’s food.” Jeyne piled them high on a plate, sitting down across from Sansa. “I’m so hungover.” 

 

“I can’t believe you got her to go out.” Margaery jerked her thumb at Sansa. Jeyne shrugged, taking a bite. 

 

“What can I say? I’m a miracle worker.” 

 

“And she drank?” Margaery shook her head. “Amazing.” 

 

“Yeah, and she was even flirting with whats his name? Amber? Andrew?” 

 

“Umber,” Sansa said before she could help herself. 

 

“That’s the one.” Jeyne snapped her fingers and pointed at Sansa. “He your crush? Is he who you went and had coffee with?” 

 

“You had coffee with someone? And didn’t tell me?” Margaery turned to her, incensed. “What the hell?” 

 

“I don’t like Umber,” Sansa rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her fingers itched to grab her phone. “I don’t like anyone.” 

 

“Then who did you get coffee with?” Jeyne folded her arms and Margaery fixed her with a stern look. 

 

“You have to tell us. We’re best friends.” 

 

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” Sansa laughed. “You two are worse with gossip than any other people I know. We’re not discussing this, okay? I don’t like Umber, and I just got coffee with some guy. No biggie.” 

 

“Are you texting him? Snapping? Twitter DMs?” Margaery followed Sansa as she got up to put her plate in the dishwasher. “Facetime? WhatsApp? Letters? Smoke signals? Tell us, Sansa Stark!” 

 

“I will not,” Sansa ducked Margaery and slid past Jeyne, heading for her room, “so don’t even try!” 

 

“Frustrating,” she heard Jeyne say to Margaery. Margaery’s response carried a hint of a threat. 

 

“Oh, we’ll get her to tell us.” 

 

Sansa sat down on her bed, pausing for a deep breath. Her door was safely locked and the risk of her roommates barging in was small so she drew out her phone and stared at it, trying to figure out what was running through her mind. She could blame her actions last night of being drunk, but nothing this morning. 

 

Did she like him? She didn’t dislike him. She didn’t hate him. She certainly liked their coffee date and the chats they’d shared. She wanted to see more of him. She wanted to talk to him, but she never would’ve dreamed that the way in which it started might have been like this. 

 

She groaned and flung herself back amongst her pillows, throwing an arm over her eyes. Her hangover was seemingly getting worse, despite the water and eggs. She kept glancing at her phone, wondering if it was going to buzz with another message from him. She didn’t know what she dreaded more, getting a message, or not. 

 

She forced herself to pick up the phone, scrolling through it. She checked social media, then her emails, then everything else besides her texts. She nearly had a heart attack when her phone buzzed, but it was nothing more than her hydration app, informing her that she was behind on her goal today. 

 

“I need to get out,” she decided, going to her contacts. She found the number she was looking for and pressed it, waiting as it rang. 

 

“Hello?” Talisa answered after a few moments. 

 

“Hi, Tali,” Sansa smiled slightly. “What are you up to?” 

 

“Trying to figure out how to get Robb to eat a kale and black bean burrito with minimal complaining,” she replied and Sansa chuckled. 

 

“Well, I have an idea.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah, throw it in the trash and make him a hamburger instead.” 

 

“Oh, very funny,” Talisa chided, though Sansa heard the humor in her voice. “Smartass. What’s up?” 

 

“Just wondering if you’d be okay with me coming over?” Sansa asked, trying to sound offhanded. She failed, as Talisa’s voice shifted to concern. 

 

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?” 

 

“No,” Sansa reassured her quickly. “No, I just want to come hang out. I don’t have practice today, so I want to see you and Robb before things get crazy.” 

 

“Well, Robb’s not home. He took Rickon to some training thing for hockey, I don’t know,” Talisa chuckled. “So it’s just little ol’ me and the kicking monster inside me.” 

 

“Perfect,” Sansa said eagerly, kicking her blankets off. “I need some advice anyways, and Robb is awful at that.” 

 

“He really is, isn’t he?” Talisa said thoughtfully. 

 

“Be there in twenty,” Sansa told her before hanging up. She didn’t bother to change; she just grabbed flip flops and her keys. 

 

“Where are you going?” Jeyne looked up from her laptop as Sansa left, snatching her purse from the hook by the door. 

 

“Talisa called me, asked me to come over,” Sansa lied easily. “Robb’s off with Rickon, so she’s all alone. Thought I’d go keep her company!” 

 

“Alright,” Jeyne’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously, “but if you’re with Umber, remember, Margaery knows everyone in this fucking school.” 

 

“Not with Umber!” Sansa yelled, slamming the door shut. She rolled down all the windows in her Jeep and thought about taking off the top, blasting the music as she drove through the city. The traffic was light, so it didn’t take her too long to arrive at Robb and Talisa’s beautiful old house. She parked in the driveway, letting herself in from the back. 

 

“Sansa?” Talisa called when Sansa shut the door loudly. “I’m upstairs, in the nursery!” 

 

“Should I have brought baby stuff?” Sansa asked, once she’d climbed the stairs. Talisa was sitting on the ground, surrounded by clothes and diapers. 

 

“Your mother took care of that,” she said wryly, glancing around. “Does she think that Robb and I won’t clothe this child?” 

 

“Don’t take it personally,” Sansa sat beside her, picking up a tiny pair of overalls. “Mom’s just a bit… controlling.” 

 

“And she means well, and she is protective, and she just wants the best for us, yes,” Talisa sighed. “I know. Your brother tells me the same thing every day.” 

 

“Well, that’s because that’s what dad tells us every day.” Sansa patted Talisa’s hand, then folded up the bibs and set them aside. “She’ll be even more overbearing once the baby is actually here, just a heads up.” 

 

“I know,” Talisa groaned. “Don’t remind me. Now what’s wrong? You have the worry on your face.” 

 

“The worry?” Sansa asked in amusement and Talisa gestured at Sansa’s general person vaguely. 

 

“Yes, the worry. What’s wrong?” 

 

“Nothing.” Sansa leaned back and rested her back against the changing table Robb had assembled. “I just… had a weird night.” 

 

“Uh oh.” Talisa looked at her in alarm. “Weird how?” 

 

“How well can you keep a secret from Robb?” Sansa questioned and Talisa folded her arms, narrowing her dark gaze. 

 

“Well.” 

 

“Really?” Sansa raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Well enough,” Talisa relented. “But you might want to be vague.” 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Sansa smiled in amusement. “It’s just… there’s sorta this guy. Kinda. Maybe.” 

 

“A boy?” Talisa’s face lit up. “Oh, boys are fun. Good. Boys. Come, boys are for snacks and hot chocolate.” 

 

“Talisa, it is like 90 degrees out,” Sansa protested, but let her sister in law pull her to her feet nonetheless.

 

“I would give you iced coffee, but your mother says that’s bad for the baby. You have to suffer with me, daughter of Catelyn Stark.” 

 

“Fair enough,” Sansa sighed, and followed her down to the kitchen. Talisa made them both mugs, and Sansa doused hers in whipped cream while Talisa sat across from her, eagerly clapping her hands. 

 

“Tell me about the boy!” 

 

“He’s more a man,” Sansa admitted and Talisa made a little noise. “No! No, I haven’t like slept with him or anything, God no. I just mean… he’s just older than me. By, you know, a couple years.” 

 

“Nothing wrong with older men,” Talisa nodded along wisely. 

 

“Yeah, except my mother would have a heart attack,” Sansa reminded her and Talisa pointed to her burgeoning stomach. 

 

“She survived this, no?” 

 

“Fair point,” Sansa chuckled, “but you’re like an extension of her golden child, Robb. The rest of us don’t have as much leeway.” 

 

“She likes you best, Robb says,” Talisa took a dollop of whipped cream and ate it from the spoon.

 

“Robb is a bit of a liar,” Sansa argued. “And he knows mom and dad like him best. We all do. Ask anyone.” 

 

“Stop stalling,” Talisa ordered her. “You were talking about a man, Sansa Stark. Who is this man?” 

 

“You told me to be vague,” Sansa remarked dryly and Talisa paused. 

 

“Alright. Tell me why you like him then.” 

 

“He’s good.” The words came so quickly from her lips, Sansa didn’t have any time to think about them. But as she said them, it seemed right. It seemed true. “He’s… kind. Not at first. And not to everyone. He’s a bit rough around the edges, you know. I don’t even know if I even really like him, not yet!

 

“I mean, we only got coffee the once. But it was fun. He’s easy to talk to. And he’s funny. I mean, when we talk, it’s not like it is with guys my age. Like, he teases me. But not in a mean way or like he’s trying to be smarter than me and show off. Just like… in a nice way. And he is smart! He holds an actual conversation. Asks me about things. About myself. And then he actually listens to my answers. 

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I really even like him, honestly. It would never work. He’s older than me. I’m just a college kid. I’m just a dumb little girl, probably. He doesn’t like me like that, I’m sure. Except he has this nickname for me, and when he says it, it’s so… I don’t even know. It’s just good.” 

 

“Well,” Talisa ran her finger around the edge of her mug, her eyes on Sansa, “it seems to me that you do like him.” 

 

“It would never work out between us,” Sansa protested and Talisa shrugged, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. 

 

“That’s what I said about Robb. That’s what I said about him up until the moment we got married.” 

 

“Really?” Sansa looked at her in surprise. Her brother and his wife had always seemed like they were perfect for each other. 

 

“Yes,” Talisa nodded, “really. I was foreign. I wasn’t a cheerleader. Your mother hated me, and your father disliked me. Even my own family wanted me to come back home rather than stay with him. But I made a leap of faith.” 

 

“Yeah, but you and Robb got married. You loved each other. I’ve only ever gone to coffee with this guy,” Sansa protested and Talisa waved a dismissive hand. 

 

“That’s how it starts. If Robb had never been too stubborn to let one of the trainers send him to the hospital, I might have never found him bleeding in a stairwell.” 

 

“You guys have the best ‘how we met’ story,” Sansa muttered. 

 

“We do.” Talisa grinned. “How did you meet this man?” 

 

“He rescued me.” Sansa absentmindedly played with the little cups of creamer Robb used in his coffee, stacking them. 

 

“From?” Talisa raised an eyebrow.

 

“Baelish,” Sansa admitted and Talisa’s face grew dark. 

 

“That man? Why were you with him?” 

 

“It was a dance thing,” Sansa explained. “He just happened to be there. It was fine. He didn’t even see me.”

 

“I don’t like that man,” Talisa muttered and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

“No one does.” 

 

“So he rescued you from the bad man, then what?” Talisa asked and Sansa had to bit her lip to stop herself from smiling as she recalled that night. 

 

“Then he got me sushi and we just talked.” 

 

“That is cute little story,” Talisa said thoughtfully. “But why did he save you? Did he know who you were?” 

 

“Talisa, we’re Starks. Everyone knows us.” Sansa took a drink while Talisa made a face, frowning. 

 

“I forget. I don’t feel like Mrs. Stark just yet.” 

 

“That’s mom’s name,” Sansa reassured her. “But I bumped into him, apologized, and then sort of accidentally used him as a human shield to avoid Baelish.” 

 

“And he let you?” Talisa arched an eyebrow. 

 

“Told you he was a good man,” Sansa stated, and slurped some whipped cream off the top of her hot chocolate. 

 

“Then why was last night weird?” Talisa demanded and Sansa cringed. 

 

“Right, that. I mean, it wasn’t weird. I just… I made a sort of dumb decision. I got his number and texted him.” 

 

“I do not think that is dumb,” Talisa shrugged. “Everyone drunk texts people. But not me. I cannot even have one glass of wine. Your mother might come down from the sky and strike me down.” 

 

“She’s more likely to come at you from the closets,” Sansa had to stop herself from laughing. “She doesn’t really like heights.” 

 

“Ha-ha, funny girl,” Talisa glared. “What did you drunk text him? Was it bad? Was it embarrassing?” 

 

“It’s embarrassing that I texted him at all,” Sansa covered her face. “I don’t even know if he likes me like that. I don’t even know if he likes me at all! Then I was drunk enough to tell someone that I kind of liked him, and got his number! He probably thinks I’m the biggest fucking weirdo on the face of the earth.” 

 

“No, that’s Rickon,” Talisa teased. “Did he text you back?” 

 

“Yes,” Sansa groaned. “That’s what makes it even worse. So not only did I drunk text him, I carried on a drunk conversation!” 

 

“That means he likes you, though,” Talisa insisted. Sansa peeked over her fingers to look at her warily. 

 

“Look, Tali, I know that you’re really smart, but—”

 

“No, listen to me,” Talisa waved her hands impatiently, nearly spilling her hot chocolate. “Listen. He texts back, that means he likes you. If you respond to drunk people, that means you like them.” 

 

“He wasn’t drunk though,” Sansa told her and Talisa grinned. 

 

“Then he really likes you.” 

 

“Yes, but why?” Sansa got up to pace the kitchen. “Why would he like me? I’m just a college girl. Why would he like me?” 

 

“Because you are a pretty and smart woman,” Talisa suggested but Sansa ignored her, on a rambling rant now. 

 

“I mean, it’s not like I’m some super smart girl or anything. I’m not even mature, because I text like a seven year old when I’m drunk. I mean, a guy like him, a professional athlete, with a girl like me?”

 

“He’s a professional athlete?” Talisa perked up with interest and Sansa bit her lip, trying her best to lie. 

 

“No?” 

 

“In what?” Talisa leaned forward. “Is he some famous tennis player? Oh, ping pong! Alpine skiing?” 

 

“If I tell you what sport, you’ll guess who it is,” Sansa informed her and Talisa scowled, but didn’t protest. 

 

“Fine. But guys like you Sansa. Robb tells me all the time, he worries about you dating,” She said and Sansa swallowed, hard. 

 

“That’s because Robb is an overprotective big brother who doesn’t know what’s coming for him,” she turned away from Talisa so she didn’t seen the look on her face. “I’m a big girl, I can date whoever.” 

 

“True,” Talisa agreed. “I don’t think you did anything wrong.” 

 

“No?” Sansa turned back to her. “Then how come he hasn’t texted me back?” 

 

“Men are dumb.” Talisa rubbed her stomach. “Even your brother. Come, feel, they’re kicking me.” 

 

“Oh!” Sansa rushed forward and pressed her hand to where Talisa’s hand been. After a moment, something pressed it and she grinned at Talisa, who grinned back. Sansa laughed in delight as the baby kicked again and again, until both she and Talisa were beaming in the kitchen.

 

“He likes you,” Talisa said softly, leaning her head against Sansa’s shoulder. “Any man would be crazy not to.” 

 

“Thank you,” Sansa rested her chin on Talisa’s head. “I’m glad that Robb married you. I always wanted an older sister like you.” 

 

“Tell your mother that,” Talisa requested, with only a hint of joking in her tone. Sansa laughed then patted her shoulder. 

 

“C’mon, I’ll help you organize the baby clothes.” 

 

She spent the rest of the morning with Talisa, sorting out the mountain of clothes for the baby. Despite not knowing the gender, Catelyn Stark had seemed determined to get the baby three of everything. Sansa was convinced that Talisa would never have to dress the baby in the same outfit twice for the first three years of its life, though Talisa said they likely only had enough to make a run for two years. 

 

They made lunch and ate, Talisa lamenting the fact that she was forbidden by Robb and Catelyn to have most of the food that she liked. Sansa could only agree that her mother was being a little overbearing, and Robb bowed to her whims far too often. The two of them were just making smoothies when Sansa realized that she hadn’t checked her phone the whole time. She drew it out of her pocket, staring at it with dread. 

 

“Oh, check it,” Talisa ordered, tossing more fruit into the blender. “You know you want to. It’s fine.” 

 

“But what if he did text me?” Sansa demanded, then groaned. “What if he didn’t? God, which is worse?” 

 

“Stop worrying.”

 

“But—” Sansa started, but Talisa simply turned the blender on and blinked reproachful eyes at her. “Fine,” Sansa huffed, and checked it. 

 

**How’s the head?**

 

“He texted, I can see it in your face!” Talisa cried triumphantly, clapping her hands. Sansa squeaked and buried her face in her hands. 

 

“I don’t know what to say back,” she admitted. Talisa turned off the blender and went to go get them glasses. 

 

“Read to me,” she ordered, pouring them both a smoothie.

 

“How’s the head?” Sansa read off.

 

“That?” Talisa looked at her skeptical look, holding the glasses. “You don’t know how to respond to that? You are worse at flirting than Robb.” 

 

“Robb was good at flirting, just not with you,” Sansa muttered and Talisa laughed. 

 

“Yes, you’re right. Tell him the truth then. Does your head hurt?”

 

“It’s going to,” Sansa complained. “It would be better if I didn’t have to worry about texting him back.” 

 

“Shut up, you know you want to text him,” Talisa rolled her eyes. “So text him. I will even help. You’ll say that your head does hurt and then thank him for asking.” 

 

“Do you even remember how to flirt, married, pregnant lady?” Sansa demanded and Talisa laughed. 

 

“How do you think I got married and pregnant?” 

 

“Please don’t say anything in regards to the answer of that question, I desperately don’t want to know,” Sansa pleaded. 

 

“Fine, then respond,” Talisa took a sip of her smoothie. “Or I will.” 

 

_It’s alright, thanks for asking. I’m a little embarrassed about what happened last night though. So sorry._

 

“Fuck me,” Sansa put her phone facedown and pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.

 

“He likes you.” Talisa was supremely cavalier about it. “I can tell.”

 

“You don’t know shit,” Sansa muttered and Talisa huffed at her, but didn’t fight it. When the phone buzzed a minute later, Sansa shrieked.

 

“Ah, calm down!” Talisa jumped, then glared. “What, have you never texted with a boy before?” 

 

“He’s not a boy,” Sansa protested weakly. 

 

“Read it again,” Talisa prompted. “You are so awful at this.” 

 

“‘No problem,’” Sansa started, feeling rather nauseous. “‘Happens to the best of us.’ Happens to the best of us? What the fuck does that mean?” 

 

“That we all get drunk,” Talisa gestured impatiently. “What else? Is that all?” 

 

“Yes, that’s all.” Sansa stared at the text message, frowning. “That’s it. What does he mean by that? Is he angry?”

 

“How would I know? Drink your smoothie before it melts.” 

 

“I mean, I drunk texted him. It’s not like I was rude or anything,” Sansa took the glass and the straw, taking a pull. “I mean, seriously, like did he—Ah!” Another buzz from a text made her shout. 

 

“What does it say, what does it say?” Talisa was smacking the countertop in her excitement, bouncing. 

 

“It says — would you calm down before you go into labor? — It says that it gave him something to do. He has insomnia,” she explained, heart racing. 

 

“He double texted, that’s good,” Talisa pointed at Sansa’s chest. “See, told you. Likes you, really likes you.”

 

“Or he sent the first text too soon,” Sansa rationalized. Talisa poo’ed her, shaking her head, her dark hair spilling around her shoulders. 

 

“Why do you doubt him so?” Talisa took Sansa’s hands. “Why does it always have to be the worst?” 

 

“Men usually are,” Sansa said dryly. 

 

“Stop.” Talisa rolled her eyes. “This one seems good. Let him be good. Text him back. Tell him how you feel.” 

 

“I don’t even know how I feel,” Sansa muttered darkly, hands hovering over the buttons unsurely. 

 

“Figure it out,” Talisa went to go put the blender away. “And tell him. He seems like a good guy. Maybe I would like him.” 

 

“You already do,” Sansa murmured under her breath. 

 

“Huh?” Talisa glanced at her.

 

“Nothing,” Sansa said hastily. She looked down at her phone, willing herself to say something witty and smart. Nothing came to mind, except to apologize to him yet again for bothering him. Unbidden, she heard his voice in her mind, telling her to stop chirping at him like a little bird. She smiled, and replied. 

 

_I won’t chirp at you anymore, promise. Request for coffee still stands though, if that’s alright with you?_

 

**Not today I hope**

 

_No, not today. I’m over at Robb and Talisa’s actually!_

 

**Baby things?**

 

_Sort of. Nothing specific, just helping out where I can before school starts._

 

**Aren’t you sweet?**

 

_That’s what I keep trying to tell you!_

 

**Believe it when I see it Stark.**

 

_I like it better when you call me little bird_

 

**Don’t you mean little birs?**

 

_Alright I was drunk so forgive my spelling. I am educated I swear._

 

**It was fun trying to figure out what you meant**

 

_Why weren’t you asleep?_

 

**Know what insomnia means, little bird?**

 

_Yes. But is it real insomnia or the kind where you can’t sleep one night a week?_

 

**There’s a difference?**

 

_Marg claims insomnia when she drinks too much coffee._

 

**Ah. Makes sense. No, I have the real deal then**

 

_I’m so sorry. That must suck._

 

**You get use to it.**

 

_I promise to get drunk and send you more amusing texts more often then._

 

**Kind, but not necessary. Not sure I can condone that as a coach**

 

_Fair point. That why you know the coffee shops so well?_

 

**You did go to school didn’t you?**

 

_Very funny. I was going to ask if that’s why you’re at the gym so early in the morning but now I won’t, smart ass._

 

**Yeah, insomnia. What’s your excuse?**

 

_Just crazy, I guess._

 

**Well glad to know you’re up for coffee whenever. Or a ride to the gym.**

 

_Yeah, when it comes to that, I’m your girl!_

 

“Ah, love,” Talisa sighed fondly, late in the afternoon, after Sansa had read her the conversation and was beaming. “To be young again.” 

 

“You’re like, twenty-seven!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes so this my weekly plea to feed my ego and leave me a review, because life is short and fanfic writers crave validation. i love you all so much and nothing is better than a comment. i hope you enjoyed!!!


	6. Wasburn A Mill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi if you've ever read my girl from the north country fic you will know how much i love music 
> 
> so when you listen to this song, i know you won't see the dance i've choreographed in my head, but i hope you like it
> 
> and i hope you liked this chapter!!! (all the outfits, hairstyles, etc are at my guide, link is in the first chapter!)
> 
> ((also if you ever visit the twin cities plz check out the mill city ruins they are cool as shit, and this chapter is named for them))

“I will give you a hundred dollars if you can stay off your phone for more than like 27 seconds,” Margarey bargained as they walked into the gym for practice.

“I’m not on it that much,” Sansa protested, clicking her phone off nonetheless.

“Please,” Ros scoffed, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder. “You’re never not on it. What are you doing even?”

“Texting a boy,” Jeyne said, grinning when Sansa glared at her.

“Oh, a boy?” Shae perked up at that, glancing over her shoulder. “Do tell, little Miss Stark.”

“Never,” Sansa said dryly and Shae’s inquiring gaze slid to Jeyne.

“Don’t look at me,” Jeyne heaved a faux-dramatic sigh. “She won’t tell us anything.”

“Steal her phone,” Shae suggested.

“She’s got the new iPhone. We’d need her face to unlock it,” Margaery explained and Sansa grinned as she opened the door to the gym.

“It’ll unlock if it’s close enough to her,” Ros stated. “We should go get Arya and see if it works with her.”

“Arya?” Margaery snorted. “We’d have better luck with Robb in a wig.”

“If you get Robb in a wig, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Sansa replied, laughing. She’d gone to great lengths to prevent them from getting into her phone and seeing her conversations with Sandor. She’d even changed his name in case her roommates ever stole the phone.

It wasn’t like the conversations were anything special. Between classes starting, cheering at the football games every weekend, dance practices, sorority things, friends, her family, and clubs on Sansa’s side, and training, workouts, recruitment duties, and coaching things on Sandor’s side, it wasn’t like they had a ton of free time. But if Sansa was up studying and Sandor couldn’t sleep, they would text each other, chatting. He never failed to wish her a good night or good morning. Sansa liked to send him the things she found amusing during her day.

They hadn’t gone for coffee again, but Sansa was hoping that he’d ask her soon. She’d tried to play it off casually, but when her phone buzzed, she couldn’t help feeling a little thrilled. She made sure none of her teammates were looking then glanced down at the text to see who it was. It was nothing more than her mother, excitedly asking Sansa to send her a picture when they got a look at their costumes. Sansa slid her phone away when Mel walked in.

“Ladies,” she clapped her hands loudly to quiet them. “Girls, listen up. Now, for you that have never been on this team before, pay close attention. Captains?”

“Alright everyone.” Dany rose with a smile as Sansa and Ygritte moved to stand up beside her. Dany’s long hair was dyed silver, like a sheet of metal, and she tossed it, grinning. Ygritte and Sansa let her have the spotlight. “For those of you who don’t know, we’re National Champions.”

“Thanks, I remember,” Margaery called as the girls laughed.

“It’s not a title I intend on losing,” Dany declared. “We are Gophers. We are expected to be champions. We don’t settle for anything less. We are going to cry, sweat, and bleed if we need to but in January, it’s going to be us raising that trophy high. If you’re new to the team, you can’t imagine that feeling. Hunger for it. Want it. For anyone who knows, remember that moment. Let it be your only focus. We will be National Champions!”

“Alright,” Ygritte said, once the hooting and hollering had died down. The freshmen were looking at Dany with something like reverence. “We called a special practice today not to make you guys run or do planks. Today’s practice is different.”

“We have a little surprise for you,” Sansa declared, smiling. She pulled out her phone.

“You’re finally going to tell us who you’re texting?” Jeyne demanded and Sansa rolled her eyes as giggles broke out.

“Not quite,” she responded, going to the stereo system and plugging in her phone. “Ladies, our music for Nationals.”

“Oh, hell yes,” Roslin said, scooting closer. Excited whispers started before Ygritte silenced them with a sharp whistle. Eager faces turned to Sansa as she pressed play.

The song had been her choice. She’d stumbled upon it in one of Arya’s playlists in the summer and had immediately stopped, head cocked. They’d been ready to load the boat and Arya had been blasting it from the speakers. Sansa had begun to choreograph right there on the dock, imagining the dance with her teammates, moving as one then breaking away. Her family had moved around her, unbothered. It wasn’t uncommon for Sansa to drop everything and start dancing when she liked a song.

It was deep and dark and mysterious, and Sansa could already envision them moving like a beating heart, like lovers lamenting a breakup. Pouring their souls into the dance, bringing the words and emotions to life. The music stopped dramatically, then resumed stronger than before. Sansa already knew where the turning section would go, where the lifts and the leaps would match the music best. This was going to be her routine, she felt it in her bones.

“Cloud, by Elias,” she told them when the music trailed off. They’d had the music edited to be shorter, a little faster to better match their turns to it, but it was the complete song, essentially.

“Holy shit,” someone muttered quietly and Sansa searched their faces, on edge. What if they hated it? What if they thought her an idiot? It was a departure from what they’d done last year, but Sansa was confident that this team was ready for this sort of routine. Then Lyanna spoke.

“I fucking love it,” she stated and it was like they all let out a breath, talking over each other in their eagerness to express how thrilled they were with the music.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Mel hushed them while Sansa couldn’t hold back her smile. “That’s enough then. There’s something else you need to see.”

“Prepare to be amazed,” Margaery said in whisper that carried across the whole group. Heads turned as Irri stepped out of the hallway and into the gym. A tiny cry went up, but otherwise it was mostly silent as the girls gawked. Mel had chosen Irri to model their jazz costumes since she was one of the smallest and most petite, and striking with her almond eyes, dusky skin, and ebony hair. Mel had even mocked up how she’d wanted them to wear their hair, in a braid that made almost a Mohawk with dark ribbons and rhinestones woven in.

The costume was the color of a thunderhead, a leotard and a sash of deep grey around the waist. The top was nearly all mesh, with a bralet made of dark diamonds surrounded with lighter ones. Irri did a slow, graceful spin and the skirt lifted slightly in the breeze. The back was completely open, and Irri performed a few steps of some lyrical piece. Sansa even had to admit, Margaery’s father had gone above and beyond on this.

“I’m gonna wear it to class,” Roslin said, voice half hushed in awe.

“I’m going to wear it on a date,” Margaery proclaimed.

“You most certainly will not,” Mel commanded and Irri grinned. “Take a good look ladies. Not all of you will wear this costume. We will have two alternates who will learn every step and movement. The rest of you will train so hard you’ll hate this music and this costume and all it stands for. Love it now. It won’t last.”

“The dramatics,” Missy muttered to Gilly, who shrugged.

“She can be dramatic all she want, I’m just glad I don’t have to curl my hair.”

“Alright,” Mel clapped her hands and Irri disappeared, off to change, “you’ll see pom outfits next week. I want you all in black leos today; Margaery’s tailor will take you one by one to measure you for your custom fit. The rest of you to the wall, we’re warming up ballet today!”

“What’s the pom music going to be?” Shireen asked her as they shed their tank tops and shorts.

“That’s on Ygritte,” Sansa laughed, winding her hair up in a bun. She had enough on her plate to worry about.

Practice seemed to last forever; Mel had them run all of their dances three times before she was satisfied with them. Then came conditioning and cardio, stretching and abs. Mel dismissed them with threats of three-a-days and Sansa splashed water on her face, groaning.

“Do you think she remembers what it’s like to workout this much?” Arienne questioned, gazing at the door Mel had disappeared through.

“Oh, sure,” Mya flung herself down amongst the bags, “but she likes to watch us suffer.”

“It’s just making us better,” Dany proclaimed loftily and they all groaned at her, waving hands. She stuck her tongue out and gathered up her bags. “Fine, fine then. I’m going to go see Drogo then. We’re going to do some more cardio.”

“Sex doesn’t count!” Missy yelled as Dany flounced off.

“Speaking of,” Jeyne’s gaze swung to Sansa “anything you want to tell us, little lady?”

“That I’m not getting any,” Sansa laughed, stuffing her running shoes into her bag. “And even if I was, I wouldn’t tell any of you.”

“You are absolutely no fun.” Myranda stood, the next to leave. “I tell you guys everything about my sex life.”

“You tell us too much,” Mya complained. Myranda gave her a poke with her toe on the way out.

“C’mon Sansa, just tell us,” Margaery pleaded. “Who is this guy?”

“None of your business,” Sansa repeated for the millionth time. “Now I’m going to go get a smoothie. Who’s coming with me?”

“Ooh.” Several of the girls sat up eagerly and Sansa grinned at her roommates.

“See ya at home!”

Sansa sat outside the café with her teammate, grinning and listening to them talk. She liked it best when they all hung out and she faded to the background, just observing. She sometimes felt like she was the only sane and level headed upperclassmen on the team, with willful Margaery, headstrong Shae, and defiant Ygritte. She was the one who solved all the problems and fights that arose when they spent every minute together before Nationals, and it was good to know and spot the problems before they erupted, if she could.

The sun shone down warm, but no one minded. They were hot and sweaty from practice anyways. Sansa sat half in shade, well aware of what the sun would do to her pale skin if left unchecked. She slurped down the mango-strawberry concoction and checked her phone. She couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across her face when she saw who exactly it was from. The name alone sent her stomach off like a firecracker.

**How was practice?**

_Mine was absolutely excellent, thank you! How was yours?_

**Clearly not as good as yours.**

_It’s only the best practice we’ll have all year._

**Why?**

_Because we got to see our costumes!_

**Costumes?**

_For jazz?_

**You have costumes?**

_Oh boy. Yes. Think of them as uniforms. We got to try on our uniforms today. And they’re very pretty and nice and lovely. And we played our music today!_

**Dance sounds… interesting.**

_More interesting than hockey?_

**Wouldn’t quite go that far little bird.**

_Of course you wouldn’t. What are you up to?_

**Running errands. You?**

_Smoothies!_

She snapped a picture of her half-drunk smoothie, sending it in the chat. Missy watched her do so and raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Sansa just quirked an eyebrow and turned away.

**Well doesn’t that look good.**

_Smoothies after practice are scientifically proven to help you recover faster._

**Bullshit.**

_Ok fine. But they’re damned delicious._

 

**You know what’s even better?**

 

_What’s that?_

 

**Sushi. Unless you replace your meals with smoothies.**

 

_Hey. I may be a white girl, but I’m not that basic._

 

**You want any?**

 

_Sushi? So bad, yes, but I’d have to dip out on my Spanish club meeting._

 

**Is there not a night where you don’t have ten million things to do?**

 

_….. Thursday!_

 

**Thursday?**

 

_Yes. Practice is done at 7, then after that I don’t have anything for once! You?_

 

**Gotta watch some film on recruits, but I was thinking about taking them home and ordering in something.**

 

_That’s a fun Thursday night activity._

 

**Always welcome to join in. I bet you’ve got some valuable input.**

 

_Anyone but Rickon sucks, he’s the best. There, input given._

 

**Valuable, thank you.**

 

_I can grab something after practice and bring it over if you’d like?_

 

**What’s your offer here?**

 

_I’ve got a great Italian carryout place by my apartment. Got anything against penne and pesto sauce?_

 

**Love ‘um.**

 

_Great. I like it. Send me over your address and I’ll be there?_

 

Sansa nearly shrieked when she received the address. It took all of her self control not to upend her smoothie all over Arianne’s lap, and when she finally calmed down enough to say her goodbyes, she was still trembling. She practically floated to her jeep, and it wasn’t until she was pulling out of the parking lot that she realized the magnitude of what she’d done. Panic began to seep in. She dialed Talisa’s number while she waited at a stoplight, drumming her nails against the steering wheel idly. Talisa picked up after a couple rings, sounding distracted. 

 

“Yes?” There was barking behind her, loud and close. 

 

“Whoa, Grey Wind having a meltdown or what?” Sansa asked, as Talisa groaned. 

 

“Yes, because Robb’s banned him from the nursery until we have everything edible put away, but you know how well he does being told no.” 

 

“He’s about as spoiled as his owner,” Sansa remarked with a little laugh. “Bad time? Need me to call back?” 

 

“Nope, now is fine,” Talisa smacked the door, and the barking quieted. “There, that’s better. What’s up?”

 

“Remember the guy I was telling you about the last time I was home?” Sansa turned the radio down. “I think we’re going on a date.”

 

“A real date?” Talisa enquired eagerly and Sansa pursed her lips, pondering it for a moment. With Sandor, she never was certain of what exactly things were. 

 

“Maybe. I’m going to grab us Italian food and go to his apartment. He’s… busy in the evenings and this is the only time we have free,” Sansa explained, wondering how to explain Sandor’s job to Talisa without giving his identity away. 

 

“Is this Netflix and chill?” Talisa questioned and Sansa cringed. 

 

“Not quite.” 

 

“Well, I think it might be a date,” Talisa decided carefully. “But do you want it to be a date?” 

 

“I mean, sure,” Sansa admitted slowly. “I like him a lot. But I don’t know, does this just seems like he doesn’t want to put in much effort?”

 

“Well, you said you are both busy, yes?” Talisa remarked and Sansa thought wryly of the meetings, practices, classes, jobs, and workouts that seemed to set their schedules at odds with each other. 

 

“To say the least.” 

 

“Then perhaps this is him making an effort to fit you in no matter what,” Talisa justified wisely and Sansa couldn’t hide her smile. 

 

“Alright, you make a good point.” 

 

“Thank you, tell your brother that.” 

 

“And my mother?” Sansa teased and Talisa groaned loudly. 

 

“She came over this morning with a new stroller because the one I picked out was a safety hazard. It was the same stroller, just a different color,” Talisa bemoaned. 

 

“I know, but she’s probably bored out of her mind,” Sansa rationalized. “With me and Arya back at school, the older boys off, and Bran and Rickon going back to classes, she probably feels like she’s gotta mother someone.” 

 

“Speaking of Arya, have you talked to her?” Talisa asked and Sansa’s cheeks went hot with guilt, through she strove to keep her voice level. 

 

“No, not really. Why?” 

 

“Oh, I just heard Robb mention she might be having a hard time,” Talisa remarked idly and Sansa’s heart clenched though she wasn’t sure why. Arya wouldn’t take any advice Sansa offered her anyways, but the thought of her little sister, so headstrong and willful, being sad seemed impossible. 

 

“Why did he say that?” She forced herself to ask, trying to sound like she wasn’t worried at all. Talisa hummed, dishes clattering in the background. 

 

“I don’t know, something about how she wasn’t finding her pack? I don’t know, maybe she’s not making friends,” Talisa suggested and Sansa relaxed. Arya was the type of person who attracted others; she’d been almost more popular than Sansa in high school, and Sansa had been voted Most Popular. 

 

“Arya makes friends like other people breathe. She gives off the whole aloof vibe. It draws people to her,” Sansa scoffed. “I’m sure she’s fine. Robb is probably being dramatic. He likes to worry.” 

 

“Alright, just remember that not all of us came to college with built in friends,” Talisa reminded her gently and Sansa stopped, bristling. 

 

“What does that mean?” 

 

“Arya doesn’t have a team or a sorority,” Talisa stated. “She doesn’t automatically have people to get lunch with or hang out on weekends. It’s harder.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” Sansa tried to brush it off, but the guilt was a splinter, and her every attempt to ignore it only made it hurt worse. “I’m sure she’s fine.” 

 

“Perhaps, but you—” Talisa started and a second later, something was beeping at her. “The fuck? The fuck you want, you stupid stroller? Why, why are you yelling at me you piece of — Robb! Robb!—Sansa, I have to go.” 

 

“Yeah, okay, okay.” Sansa pulled up to her apartment, grabbing her bag. “I’m home anyways. Tell Robb hi. Good luck with…. whatever it is you’re doing.” 

 

“Bye!” Talisa hung up and Sansa walked upstairs, lost in thought. She threw her bag down on her floor and started pulling off her sweaty practice clothes when something in the mirror caught her attention. She’d started tucking pictures around it when she was still in high school, snaps of her performing, with friends, with her family, whatever artsy filter she’d applied in Instagram. There was only one that predated all the others; it was her and Arya, no older than seven and four perhaps. They were walking down the gravel road at Winterfell, Sansa holding Arya’s hand and pointing.

 

She plucked the picture from its spot in the collage, staring down at it. There was something so heartbreakingly innocent to it; before she and Arya fought like cats and dogs, before they could barely stand to be in the same room, before everything about her little sister made Sansa want to rage. They’d just been sisters back then. Sighing, she put the photo down and went to take a shower, promising herself that she would text Arya before she started homework. 

 

_Hey Arya pain in my ass, what’s up?_

 

**….nothing y**

 

_Just checking in! How are classes going? Got lost yet?_

 

**no**

 

_Impressive! I was scared to try to figure out west bank when I first started, so good for you!_

 

**thx**

 

_How’s everything else? Dorm life? Need me to buy you alcohol? Tell you where all the cool parties are?_

 

**got a fake**

 

_Don’t tell mom right?_

 

**sure**

 

_Ok, well, just checking in! Sorry I’ve been so busy with dance and stuff._

 

**k**

 

_If you’re busy, I can let you go. I’ve got my first big paper due next week for class, gonna head to a coffee shop and try to get some work done. Want a cup? My treat!_

 

**no thx**

 

_Alright well, offer stands!_

 

**k**

 

“You can’t say I didn’t try,” Sansa huffed, tossing her phone in her backpack and trying to find her headphones. 

 

However, that was the only time she reached out to Arya for the rest of the week; she was too busy to worry about her sister’s passive aggressive one word texts. She had routines to learn, punishing cardio workouts from Mel that she was sure were designed to actually burn them alive from the inside out, a full class load, and several clubs that wanted her to run their social media, or organize an event, or help recruit new members. Sansa felt like she was drowning, except it was in full view of everyone. 

 

Everything in her life was broken down into before Thursday and after Thursday. Before Thursday all she thought or worried about was her date-not-date with Sandor; everything else would come after. She thought about hanging out with him, in his apartment, watching film. She wondered what it would be like inside. She wavered between a typical college boy’s dorm, with the electric lights and focus on gaming and nothing else or a barren bachelor pad with only hockey sticks for decoration. 

 

She texted him Thursday morning after her morning run, checking in to see what he wanted for food. She mentioned the pasta, but told him of all places nearby - Thai, Greek, burgers, even a new authentic Ethiopian place she’d be willing to try if he wanted to. His reply was short and to the point; Italian was fine, he liked pesto, and garlic bread was always a bonus. Sansa nearly missed her class she was so jittery. 

 

“Where are you going?” Margaery asked, when Sansa tried to sneak out the front door. She paused, before turning to face her roommates, as innocent as she could muster. 

 

“Meeting,” she responded, flashing them a smile. “It’s nothing.” 

 

“You don’t have a meeting, at least not according to the color coded schedule on your desk,” Jeyne countered, arms crossed. “This time is blocked off in yellow, which is a mystery because nothing else is yellow.” 

 

“Why do you know that?” Sansa frowned at her. 

 

“Please, you’re like a bullet journal’s wet dream,” Margaery waved a hand. “Where are you going? Tell us or we’ll follow you.” 

 

“I don’t like you being secretive,” Jeyne complained. “It makes me worry.” 

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sansa said dismissively. “It’s just…. I’m going to meet Arya.” 

 

“Really?” Jeyne’s eyebrows shot up, but the lie had came off so convincingly, all Sansa could do was nod. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, Talisa called, said Arya was having a hard time. Asked me to talk to her, so we’re going to go get… tea,” she finished lamely. 

 

“I didn’t know Arya liked tea,” said Margaery thoughtfully. “She’s always seemed like a black coffee only kinda girl.” 

 

“Don’t let the image of her being a hard ass fool you, I actually once saw her save two newborn kittens from the rain and nurse them back to health.” Jeyne turned to tell Margaery the story and Sansa slipped out as quickly as she could. 

 

Getting the food was fairly easy; Sansa was on a first name basis with the manager ever since she’d gotten his son a meet-and-greet with his favorite Gopher basketball players. He had her food ready for her when she walked in the door, and after a minute she was back in her jeep, seat warmers on to keep it warm. 

 

The address Sandor had given her was across the river, over in the Mill City district. Sansa was well familiar with the area after years of going to the old, ruined mill museum for field trips and being dragged to the farmer’s market on the weekends by her mother. She was surprised, however, to find that the apartment building he lived in was nice, modern, and had the unmistakable look of luxury. 

 

She was just pondering how much a hockey coach made a year when he buzzed her in and she headed for the stainless steel elevator, heading for the top floor. In the mirror she inspected every detail of her outfit, chosen to be cute without trying too hard. Patterned shorts with a breezy top that was strategically cut to show off the back of her intricate lacy bra. She thought it highlighted what little color her skin had gotten over the summer. 

 

When she knocked, he answered the door in an instant, as if he had been right there waiting for her. She couldn’t help but smile up at him, the bag of food heavy on her arm. His gaze swept over her once, twice, before he seemed to remember himself and he moved aside, welcoming her in. 

 

“Holy shit,” Sansa couldn’t help but blurt out when she walked into his apartment. Sandor shut the door behind her, but she couldn’t even focus on him, really. The skyline out his massive window was too stunning. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

“Thanks.” Sandor carefully took the bags of food from her as she wandered towards the window. He had a view that overlooked the river and the Stone Arch bridge. The people looked small from this high up, bikers and runners and tourists alike blending into a mosaic of humans.

“Wow,” Sansa had to pull herself back from reaching out and touching the glass. The skyline of the city was spread before her, slowly starting to light up as dusk neared. “This is…. we live in the most beautiful city in the world.”

“The whole world?” Sandor remarked, opening the cupboard. Sansa heard the clinking of plates and glasses, but she was too entranced with the view to go help. “Even Paris? London? New York?”

“No, Twin Cities. For life,” Sansa declared and he snorted. She turned, affronted, ready with some biting quip, but then stopped. He was setting the neat little dining table with plain plates, but the rest of the apartment was nearly as pretty as the view. For a second, Sansa couldn’t figure out what about it was so off, but then she noticed it was not the inclusion of something, but rather the lack of it.

Sandor had modern, neat furniture. Functional but still comfortable, a long sectional couch with a large TV above a fireplace. Art on the wall; abstract paintings and small sculptures. A few books were stacked on a shelf and a few magazines on the coffee table. His kitchen was immaculately clean; the countertops glistened. It was all very nice, expect that there was not a single picture or personal item of him in the entire place. Not a one of his family, of him and friends, not even of him playing hockey. Sansa could’ve walked into a showroom for the apartment complex and it would have more personal touches than Sandor’s apartment.

“Want something to drink?” Sandor asked her, opening his fridge. Sansa jolted, before nodding.

“Yeah, just water. Water’s fine.”

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, getting a beer for himself. Sansa wandered back towards the kitchen table, seeing the open door to what looked like his bedroom and a bathroom. He’d transferred the pasta Sansa had picked up onto plates and set forks and knives neatly on each side. Sansa sank down in the chair, picking up her fork. Sandor sat across from her, a long silence stretching between the two of them, a canyon widening with each heartbeat.

“So,” Sansa broached it before it could become too sufficiently awkward, smiling at him, “how was your day?”

“Good,” he offered, then hesitantly replied, “And yours?”

“Good—today at practice one of the little freshman girls—” Sansa launched into the story and Sandor looked relieved to not have to be the one to carry on the conversation. She told him the story of her day, and then about her classes and her clubs. He interjected here and there, easing into a more comfortable tone the longer she rambled on. By the time they had finished everything, Sansa had even gotten him to crack more than a couple smiles.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine or something?” he asked as they cleaned up, the dishes going into the dishwasher and the table wiped down. “Watching film can be boring as hell.”

“One glass,” Sansa relented and he gave her an appraising look that made her pause.

“You look like a red kind of girl,” he declared and Sansa laughed.

“You got me. I love a good red.”

“Red it is then.” Sandor poured her a glass and brought it to her. She took it with a grateful smile and drifted back to the window. Outside, the skyline continued to blink at her. Someone down below on the river was playing music, strains of it floating up to them. She felt the heat of Sandor behind her, close but not intruding.

“Never seen this view, huh Stark?”

“Not quite like this,” she said quietly. “I had no idea you lived somewhere so pretty.”

“Because hockey coaches have to live in hovels under the arena?” He snorted and Sansa gave him a stern look over her shoulder.

“I just meant that most people pick a suburb.”

“Ah, fuck that,” he scoffed. “If I’m going to be stuck in the city, might as well be a place with a fucking view.”

“I get that.” Sansa thought of her family’s home in the suburbs, and the estate up north, Winterfell. She’d choose Winterfell no matter what, but this gave it a hell of a challenge. “I’m either going to become a hermit up north or live here forever. It’s up in the air.”

“Clearly,” Sandor muttered and Sansa’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, a drum that threatened to reveal her every secret if he would just listen closely. Instead he turned away and went back to the TV, fiddling with it. Sansa watched quietly as he put in a DVD, then stretched himself languidly across the couch. His massive form, barely contained in a black tee-shirt and black shorts, made the couch seem undersized.

Sansa tucked herself into the other corner, drawing her knees up to her chest and cradling the wine glass with two hands. The last thing she wanted was to spill red wine all over Sandor’s couch. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, but then went back to the TV, hitting the input button several times, navigating to the right screen. Sansa watched curiously.

“What is it that we’re doing again exactly?” She asked him, as he found what he was looking for.

“Watching recruitment tapes. Summer development leagues, camps, that sort of shit,” he explained. “That way when their seasons actually start, I don’t waste my time looking at every wannabe McDavid.”

“Ok, fair,” Sansa admitted, as he pressed play. It was a video of some arena, same as the rest, and boys skating out for an opening face-off. Sansa tried to figure out who it was by the boards and colors, but even the jerseys were too blurry to make out anything but a number on the back.

“We’re watching 19,” he answered her unasked question before she even had a chance to draw a breath. He was the left wing, wearing a dark green helmet and jersey, stick on the ice.

“Alright, what are we watching him for?” The tape had no sound, but Sansa had been to enough hockey games to fill that in with her mind; the sound of skates flying down the ice, the indiscernible yells and grunts from the boys on the bench, the loud bangs when a puck hit the boards.

“Kid can score,” Sandor told her, his grey eyes fixed on the action. Not once did he ever let up watching the play, so Sansa watched with him, trying to see what he saw. It wasn’t a few minutes later that the boy in the 19 jersey slipped the puck through the two defensemen and the goalie with ease. Even Sansa gave a low whistle.

“Oh shit, that was nice.”

“Yeah, so his coach says,” Sandor muttered, pausing the TV so he could jot down some notes in a broad scrawl on his legal pad.

“You know him?” Sansa was trying to pry her fingers into him, to take his shell and peel it away. He’d invited her into his space, which wasn’t so much his space as it was just space, but Sansa wanted to try nonetheless.

“Yeah, played juniors with him,” Sandor answered before rewinding and watching the goal again with a thoughtful expression.

“In Canada?” Sansa waited until he’d paused it again before she asked her next question and the look he gave her was one of puzzlement.

“Yeah?”

“Got it.” Sansa didn’t press it any further and Sandor gave her a strange look before going back to the tape. It was mostly a highlight reel, showing the kid’s ability to get past defenders and the goalie alike. They watched in mostly silence, Sandor’s scribbling on the pad the only sound. Until Sansa couldn’t help but make a little note of annoyance.

“What?” Sandor’s eyes left the screen and went to her, full of curiosity. Sansa tried to take a big swallow of wine and pretend that it had been nothing.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made a noise like you wanted to. What? Out with it.”

“It’s just...” Sansa grabbed the remote, “just watch. Tell me what you see.” She rewound and pressed play. Sandor watched until she huffed again before turning to look back at her.

“Tell me,” he ordered. Sansa pursed her lips then rewound again.

“There,” she gestured to the screen, “look, he lets them force a turnover in their zone, then skates back to his zone like it’s a stroll through the park. If Rickon had done that, his coaches would called him a jug of piss and made him get off the ice. It’s a lazy, entitled attitude.”

“Maybe he was tired,” Sandor said rationally and Sansa shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe. But do you want a kid on your team that’s gonna hustle and grind for you, or one who thinks that getting pucks on goal is all that matters?” she pointed out and something like amusement sparkled in Sandor’s eyes. Slowly, he leaned forward and plucked the remote from her. Their fingers brushed, lightly, and Sansa shivered despite the warmth of a summer night.

“Alright, little bird,” he said, eyes locked with hers. Sansa felt like she might be drowning. “What else you got?”

They watched a few more tapes, and Sansa had another glass of wine. It was too easy for her to laugh with him, to forget any worries about being cool or sexy or alluring. She didn’t have to put on an act with him; she was free to pout and to shout and to loudly voice her opinion on goaltender interference. Sandor watched her with amusement, relaxed into the couch. Sansa found herself inching closer and closer to him, bit by bit, until she’d burrowed her toes under his leg and could feel the heat he radiated.

“You should really just play me,” she told him, as he nodded along like this was a serious consideration. “I’m not the fastest, but I’m scrappy.”

“Scrappy, huh?” He scratched his jaw line where stubble grew and Sansa had a brief thought of what it would be like to run her lips across the rough skin there.

“Mhmm,” Sansa bobbed her head. “Real scrappy. What, don’t I look like an enforcer to you?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he replied, grey eyes sparkling with humor. Sansa pretended to huff out her annoyance, but even she couldn’t keep up that ruse, bursting into giggles.

“I’m sure I could’ve taken you down, in your prime,” she said in a fit of laughter. He put a hand over his heart, like he was hurt.

“Implying I’m not in my prime, huh, little bird?”

“Nope,” Sansa shook her head, the wine sloshing recklessly in her glass. “No, I saw your fight against Jumbo Joe, when you guys—”

“You watched my fights?” Something in Sandor’s tone had shifted, his eyes narrowing and the corner of his burned mouth twitched. Sansa paused, trying to decide if she was going to backtrack or press forward recklessly. After a long moment, she threw caution to the wind and spoke honestly.

“Yeah, of course. I grew up with Theon. Doesn’t he hold most penalty minutes out of any U of M hockey player ever?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sandor replied, still looking at her strangely. “I didn’t realize you…. Which ones did you watch?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously and Sansa thought of the names of the videos she’d burned through that night after they’d met.

_Top NHL enforcers of all time – Sandor Clegane!_

_Sandor Clegane’s top 10 NHL fights_

_Clegane/Chara Knockout_

_All Sandor Clegane Fights_

_Ducks 2007 Stanley Cup Playoff Fights_

“Just a couple,” she admitted. “I don’t remember which.”

“I….” Sandor’s head was tilted and he was watching her with an expression that might be desire though Sansa wasn’t sure anymore. She just held to her wine glass. “You’re a different sort, Stark.”

“What do you mean?” She found that her hands were trembling. She tried to remember the last time anyone had ever made her feel this way and realized that this feeling was something new entirely. Like falling asleep, hovering between two moments, not sure which to slip into.

“You come here, watch film with me, you know my fights, you….” His arm was resting along the back of the couch; one move was all it would take for him to reach up and touch her face. Sansa wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to reach out to him herself. “Who are you?”

“Just Sansa Stark.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no. I’m pretty sure that it’s the best fucking thing,” he answered and Sansa’s whole body was clenched with anticipation, ready for something. But then he got up, leaving her space so abruptly that Sansa nearly spilled the wine. She nearly gasped, but managed to swallow it. Sandor busied himself in a briefcase.

“Need, uh, help?” Sansa offered, trying to figure out where she might’ve gone wrong. Things had been going so well, so why had he left like she’d slapped him?

“No, just putting my notes and shit for tomorrow,” he responded, avoiding looking up at her and Sansa took a deep breath, then set her wine down on the coffee table.

“I could go,” she said, with just a bit reluctantly. “It’s getting late, I’m sure you’ve got work tomorrow,”

“Yeah, you’ve got homework,” he agreed and Sansa’s heart plummeted. There it was, another reminder that she was nothing but a student and he was the coach. “Thanks, for, uh, the pasta. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my treat,” Sansa waved a hand, rising. Sandor straightened up, holding his billfold open.

“No, seriously. It’s rude to let you pay,” he insisted and Sansa smiled slightly as she gathered up her shoes and purse.

“No really, don’t worry. You invited me over, shared your wine. It’s not a big deal,” she promised.

“Sansa,” he frowned and thrust some money towards her. “You’re not paying for dinner.”

“I am,” she refused to take the money, amused despite herself at the affronted look on his face. “It’s fine, it’s just pasta.”

“Fine,” he unhappily put the bill back into the wallet, setting it aside. “But then the next time is on me.”

“Oh, okay,” Sansa stopped, surprised but delighted at the implication that there would be a next time. Sandor gave her a little smile and she walked past him, pausing in the doorway. He leaned forward, like he was going to reach out for her but then stopped himself at the last second.

“Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked and Sansa smiled.

“Yeah, of course,” she promised and he nodded. She nodded back then went for the elevator, bringing her fingers up to her lips when the door shut behind her.

The drive back across the city seemed to take forever, but Sansa couldn’t stop beaming. She rolled her windows down, turning up the pop song on the radio and throwing her arms wide, singing at the top of her lungs. She hadn’t felt so light since she was still in high school, before she’d learned about heartbreak and sadness. Certainly before Joffrey and the parties and everything else that had been a weight, pulling her down. She felt like she’d been clawing for air for so long and now she was flying.

Her good mood stayed even as she snuck into her house, trying to avoid Jeyne and Margaery’s questions. Thankfully they were both locked away in their rooms, busy with other things. Sansa locked her bedroom door, humming to herself as she started to pull her clothes off and put on pajamas. She pulled out her phone, clicking through to the conversation she’d been carrying on with. She sank down on her bed, smiling, trying to figure out what exactly to say to him.

_Home safe. Thanks for letting me bother you, I had a lot of fun._

**Thanks for the food. I could’ve paid you, you know.**

_I know. You had wine. And a nice apartment. It’s a fair trade._

**Glad you liked it. Should’ve shown you the balcony.**

_There was a balcony and you didn’t show me??_

**I was too busy listening to your thoughts on your talents as an enforcer.**

_Hey. I grew up with Theon. I can slash with the best of them._

**You’d be terror on ice I’m sure.**

_Wait and see._

**You really think that you could take me?**

_This winter. Name a time and arena._

**Don’t make me laugh.**

_I’m good, I swear! Really._

**Yeah, I bet. You’re half as good in skates as you are at dance, then I’ll be worried.**

_Bring it. I’ll take you down. The headlines will read ‘Little bird beats Sandor Clegane, his shame is eternal’_

**Oh I bet they will. Unless I take you down. Not sure my pride could handle you beating me.**

_I promise to take it easy on you._

Sansa tossed her phone aside and climbed into bed, mentally thinking through all that she had do tomorrow. It was Friday, which meant classes and prep for the game on Saturday and more. It was shaping up to be one the busiest weekends of the school year, but Sansa lost focus after trying to remember what she needed to do after lunch. She was too busy remembering how Sandor had smiled, small but bright, and how she’d crept closer to him. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

When she woke to the sound of her alarm, she drowsily found her phone to silence it. She scrolled through her notifications, including reminders and emails, stopping when she saw that a text had been sent in the early hours of the morning, nearly 3 am. It was from Sandor and she couldn’t help the little squeak she made when she read it.

**Missing your insight on these kids. Could use it again if you’re ever up for it.**

She was still beaming when she went to her first class of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i'm such a nerd about minnesota stuff but also check out the guide for slang and an explanation of just who jumbo joe is!! 
> 
> anyways you guys are the honest greatest and i adore you thank you thank you thank you


	7. Christian Hockey Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um so this chapter is dedicated to my little brother. i usually try to make sure i never, ever write real people into my fics but my brother literally is rickon and as this chapter unfolded, i gave up trying to prevent it. he's rickon and rickon is him. a brief story as proof - when my mom went shopping for a new fireplace, she asked the sales guy if the 'unbreakable' warranty covered golf balls being shot off hockey sticks. flabbergasted, the salesman was forced to tell her no, that would likely break the so called indestructible glass. 
> 
> if you ever have a product that needs breakage testing, send it my way
> 
> without further ado here's my fav chapter thus far for my fav human

“Okay, okay, all of you babies, listen up,” Dany said loudly, shushing them. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you about the first time Drogo and I had sex, you gotta shut up though.” 

 

“The truth was if you’d ever done semi-public shit with a guy before,” Shae remarked, amused, and Dany waved a hand. 

 

“Yeah, but this is such a good story it needs to be told.” 

 

“Don’t traumatize them,” Irri protested, laughing. Sansa, back propped up on Jeyne’s shins, could only laugh as well. They were driving back from Madison, drunk on a win and happiness. Mel and the other coaches were at the front of the bus, dozing, so the girls had migrated to the back, sharing snacks and playing truth or dare. 

 

“Ok, so it started like this....” Dany launched into her story and they all either groaned or listened intently, depending on their nature. 

 

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” Myranda complained. “I love hearing about Drogo’s dick as much as the next girl, but let someone else have a turn. Who’s next?” 

 

“Sansa!” Missy shouted and Sansa rolled her eyes, taking another large grape from the Tupperware. 

 

“Dare,” she decided. She’d been avoiding truth all evening because Margaery had a shifty look in her eyes that Sansa knew meant she was dying to press her about the mystery dates she’d been on.

 

“I dare you to read the last text message you sent to a boy,” Lyanna declared loudly, her dark eyes alright with mischief. A few of the girls laughed, a few whistled, and Ros gave a little round of applause. Sansa shrugged and reached for her phone, minding Jeyne’s attempt to snatch it once it was unlocked. 

 

“Do you need me to bring an iced coffee directly to the delivery room or would that trigger mom?” She read aloud and grinned when several brows furrowed in confusion. “It was to Robb, about Talisa.” 

 

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Dany grumbled. 

 

“Let me check and see if you’re being honest,” Margaery protested but Sansa caught her in the chest with her foot and pushed her away. 

 

“Nope, it’s Jeyne’s turn,” she stated and Jeyne huffed. 

 

“Hit me with a truth bitches, I’m not scared of any of you.” 

 

Around the circle they went, until Sansa had learned that quiet, proper little Myrcella had a crush on the resident bad boy of the water polo team. Alayaya informed them that she liked outdoor sex the best, and Roslin demanded Robb’s number so that she could send him a picture of her in a swim suit. Sansa tactfully refused, so Roslin sent it to some tennis player instead. She laughed and watched her teammates as the lights of the interstate occasionally flickered past. It was nearly her turn again when she felt her phone buzz. Doing her best to appear subtle, she looked down to see who it might be. 

 

**Roll Gophs.**

 

“Listen I’m not saying that I wouldn’t make out with a girl,” Irri was declaring, “But if the occasion arose I don’t think I would say no.” 

 

Sansa smiled and turned back to her phone, knowing that they’d be significantly distracted with that so she could text Sandor back without interruption. She opened her camera app, finding the picture she’d taken with Goldy. They were into fall now, so their sideline outfits were a little more covering than they’d been at the game he’d attended, but she still managed to pick the one where her ass looked best. She sent it, with the caption, 

 

_Roll damn Gophs!_

 

**Ah, well, aren’t you just a peppy thing?**

 

_Don’t be mad that I’m not cheering you on. Think I should drop dance and cheer for hockey?_

 

**I think you’ve got a coach that might kill me if I suggested such a thing. Stick to your spins little bird.**

 

_Mel would get over it eventually. I could come up with a cheer that had your name in it._

 

“Sansa!” Gilly clapped her hands, drawing Sansa out of her distraction. 

 

“Yeah?” Sansa answered hastily. 

 

“Truth or dare,” Dany repeated, like it should’ve been obvious. 

 

“I, uh, truth,” Sansa stuttered, then bit her lip. Margaery sat straight up from where her head had been in Arianne’s lap, looking delighted. 

 

“Ha!” She shouted. “Truth! Ok, no one say anything! This has to be perfect!” 

 

“Why?” Mya looked up from where she was doing her homework. “Just ask her who she likes and be done with it.” 

 

“No, no, that doesn’t count!” Margaery proclaimed, then threw her pom pom at Mya’s head. “Jeez My, you could’ve ruined that for us. She’s sneaky. She’s going to figure out a way to not answer it if we don’t make it very specific.” 

 

“You know, it’s just a game, I could lie,” Sansa reminded them, but her words went unheeded. The majority of the team was gathering, bending their heads together to discuss it in a hushed whisper. Sansa chuckled and went back to her phone.

 

**I’m the coach little bird. You don’t cheer for coaches.**

 

_I’d start a new trend._

 

**I could cheer for you.**

 

_Hey, now there’s an idea!_

 

**Does the dance team need cheerleaders?**

 

_As a rule, no. But we have fans and that’s even more important. You could borrow my dad’s shirt. It says ‘Sansa’s #1 Fan!’_

 

**May pass.**

 

_Fair enough. He’s always going to be my biggest fan. He wouldn’t give that shirt up for a million bucks._

 

**Is that because he already has a million bucks?**

 

“Alright, got it,” Ros announced, when they separated. Sansa set her phone down, looking at them curiously. Eager eyes peered back at her, except for the studying Mya and Ygritte, who was fast asleep in her seat. “Sansa Stark, you are bound by the sacred slumber party laws to answer the next question truthfully.” 

 

“This isn’t a slumber party and that’s not a thing, but okay, hit me,” Sansa replied. 

 

“Who do you like, romantically, that is both a male and not a celebrity, and with whom you’ve gone on at least two dates that we know of?” Jeyne questioned, and Sansa thought about lying. She thought about coming up with something ridiculous and farfetched. Then she allowed herself a half grin before she responded, 

 

“Sandor Clegane.” 

 

“The hockey coach?” Shae’s arms crossed with a look of disbelief on her face. “No, Sansa, we said the person you liked.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s who I like,” Sansa answered stoutly. 

 

“Liar,” Margaery complained. “You have to answer it honestly, that’s the rules.” 

 

“I am,” Sansa said adamantly. 

 

“Yeah, and that’s who you’ve been going on dates with?” Jeyne rolled her eyes. 

 

“C’mon Sansa, it’s more believable that I’m also pregnant with Robb’s baby,” Roslin joked and Sansa gave her an exasperated look. 

 

“You better not be.” 

 

“You’re the worst,” Gilly complained, before turning to Jeyne. “Alright then, your turn, since princess Sansa won’t be honest with us.” 

 

“Alright fine, hit me with a dare, but don’t make me eat anything,” Jeyne put her head down on Mya’s butt. “I’m trying to be vegan.” 

 

“Oh, like that’s going to last!” 

 

Sansa could only watch in astonishment as the game moved on. She blinked several times, but no one so much as glanced her way again, too busy arguing about whether or not Jeyne was actually going to flash the next trucker. Sansa shook her head, before stopping herself from laughing. They had no clue. Part of her wanted to laugh, but instead she reached down and picked up her phone, replying to Sandor. 

 

_Very funny. Guess you’ll have to get your own._

 

**Guess so. On your way back to the cities?**

 

_Uh huh. We’re playing truth or dare. We should be home in like an hour or so._

 

**Hope there’s no early wakeup tomorrow.**

 

_God, no. I canceled brunch with my mother. I can’t deal with her, especially not after this drive._

 

**Then what’s the plan for your day then?**

 

_I’ll let you know when I get beyond sleeping until noon._

 

**Well then I could always suggest coffee and lunch?**

 

_Going to take me somewhere new?_

 

**You’re the cities kid. You know better than me.**

 

_I’ll warn you right now, it might not be very pretty._

 

**Pretty sure you’ll be stunning no matter what.**

 

_I’m riding like 4 hours on a bus with 20 other girls after cheering for four full periods of a football game, plus overtime._

 

**Then shower first.**

 

_Rude._

 

_I mean, fair._

 

_But rude._

 

“My own bed is going to feel so good,” Dany groaned, when the bus finally pulled off the interstate and towards the field house. 

 

“Don’t even play,” Missy rolled her eyes. “You’re going to go out with Drogo. You’ll probably pass out in some bar before your bed.” 

 

“We’re celebrating!” Dany protested. “This was a big win!” 

 

“It’s like, almost one in the morning,” Sansa reminded her, gathering up all of her things and shoving them back into her bag. 

 

“So? It’s not bar close,” Dany said like it should’ve been obvious. 

 

“Good lord, how does she do it?” Myranda muttered, watching her. 

 

“Sheer strength of will and a streak of iron stubbornness,” Irri responded, shaking her head. “And tequila.” 

 

“No tequila for me,” Sansa found Margaery’s shirt under the seat and handed it back to her. “I’ve got a date in the morning.” 

 

“With who, Clegane?” Roslin mocked. 

 

“Yes,” Sansa responded. 

 

Roslin snorted. “Yeah, okay San.” 

 

“Seriously, why couldn’t it be with him?” Sansa asked as Jeyne darted past her and stole the last remaining brownie before Alayaya snapped the lid shut. 

 

“Because he’s so not your type,” she replied, taking a bite of the brownie. “You like pretty boys who nearly put as much effort into their looks as you do. And besides, didn’t you declare in high school that you were never going to date a hockey player after you watched them fling their jockstraps at each other?” 

 

“That’s because Theon’s teammates were idiots,” Sansa admitted. “But I don’t go after pretty boys.” 

 

“Please,” Shae rolled her eyes. “Joffrey?” 

 

“And Royce, from high school,” Jeyne added. “He was a prick. Who’d you like before that? I can’t even remember.” 

 

“Point is, they’re prissy,” Ros clapped her shoulder. “You don’t date rough.” 

 

“Oh, if only you knew,” Sansa muttered under her breath, as the bus came to a stop and they began to file down the aisle and out the door. 

 

“Do you really have a date tomorrow?” Margaery asked, as they headed towards their cars. The boys were whooping and shouting behind them from their own bus, but Sansa paid them no mind. She didn’t have time for that anymore. 

 

“I really do,” she declared, digging up her keys from her backpack and unlocking her car door. Jeyne trailed after them, torn between them and the rowdy crowd behind them. “So no, I’m not going out. And no, I will not be giving you a ride. Final answer.” 

 

“They win one game and it’s a riot. We win nationals and people here hardly blink,” Jeyne complained, wrinkling her nose. 

 

“Dinkytown will be going off tonight,” Sansa agreed, opening the drivers door and tossing her back in the backseat. “You guys can go if you want, I won’t even complain if you’re loud coming home. But I’m not going with. End of story.” 

 

“You’re sort of a spoilsport,” Margaery told her but got in the car nonetheless. Jeyne sighed and followed suit. 

 

“Well, I like sleep,” Sansa started the jeep, minding the traffic as she backed out. “And I dislike loud music. See how sleeping instead of partying aligns with that?” 

 

“You used to be fun,” Margaery leaned back and Jeyne reached out the seat to smack her shoulder. “Ow! What?” 

 

“Don’t say that. She’s still fun,” Jeyne scolded. “She doesn’t have to be a party animal to be fun, especially after….” 

 

“Alright quit it or you’ll both walk home,” Sansa threatened and they both fell silent. Sansa didn’t yell at Margaery or tell Jeyne that it was fine. Instead she just parked her jeep and led the way to their rooms. 

 

She wasn’t mad at Margaery. She knew that freshman year she’d acquired the reputation of a party girl. She’d liked going out and getting drunk. She’d liked being on Joffrey’s arm. She liked the way that she didn’t worry so much what others thought of her when she was drunk. She thought it was funny that she’d wake up some mornings and not remember a single thing about the night before. 

 

But somewhere along the line, that girl had disappeared. She’d gotten a little older, a little wiser. She’d survived Joffrey and a sense of humiliation that ran so deep it still hurt her, every now and then. And now, those same things that she’d once loved so much seemed silly and wasteful. She wouldn’t begrudge her roommates for going out, but it didn’t entice her anymore. Especially with Sandor seeing her tomorrow. 

 

“Hey, San,” Margaery poked her head around Sansa’s door as Sansa emptied out her bag, throwing her dirty uniform aside to be washed. “I uh, I didn’t mean what I said back there. I just…. I miss us going out, you know?” 

 

“It’s fine, Mar,” Sansa promised. “I just don’t feel like it tonight, you know? After Nationals I’ll go out more, I swear.” 

 

“Cross your heart and hope to die?” Margaery asked hopefully and Sansa laughed. 

 

“Yeah, heart and hope to die. Mind Jeyne tonight, will you? She hasn’t eaten enough to drink like she usually does.” 

 

“Yeah, will do, mom,” Margaery smiled at her. “Have fun on your date tomorrow, with whoever it is.” 

 

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Sansa grinned, shaking her head. “Yeah, I will.” 

 

“Well bye, night!” Margaery went, leaving Sansa alone in her room, amused and annoyed in equal measures. 

 

**Pick you up tomorrow, say 11:30?**

 

_Perfect. Can’t wait._

 

* * *

 

 

When Sansa woke up and got out of bed, she smiled to see that both of her roommates remained firmly asleep. She showered and started getting ready, picking out cute shorts and a tee-shirt. She was doing her makeup when her phone buzzed and she glanced down, butterflies rising when she saw it was from Sandor. 

 

**How do you feel about sandwiches?**

 

_They are a fundamental staple of our culture. Delicious when done right._

 

**Perfect. I’ll be there in 15?**

 

Sansa bustled through the kitchen, ignoring the fact that it looked like Margaery's closet had exploded all over the living room. She kept one eye on the window as she opened the fridge, moving aside fruity alcoholic drinks so that she could find the smoothie she’d made and took a long pull. 

 

It was 11:30 on the dot when Sandor’s truck pulled up. Sansa smiled slightly at the clock before grabbing her purse and locking the door behind her. When she stepped out onto the street, she was happy to see that the day was warm, the sun shining down. She waved to Sandor, going around to the passenger side. 

 

“Morning,” he said when she climbed in. 

 

“Hi.” She grinned up at him. 

 

“How was Wisconsin?” he asked, pulling back onto the street. 

 

“Better after a win,” Sansa decided and he smiled. 

 

“Always is.” 

 

They fell into chatting easily as he drove through the streets. Sansa rolled the window down, enjoying the warm breeze. He gave her all the gossip on the hockey team, and the other sports and their coaches. Sansa listened, interested, until her phone buzzed insistently and she pulled it out from her back pocket, checking the caller ID.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa said instantly, when she saw that the picture on the screen was that of Robb, shirtless with Sharpie marker all over him, lunging at the camera in a rage. Arya had taken the picture two summers ago when he’d gotten drunk and passed out. She and the rest of the Stark siblings had taken turns drawing all over him until he’d woken up and threatened to kill them.

“No, go ahead.” Sandor raised his eyebrows at the picture but said nothing more on the matter and Sansa gave him a grateful look, answering.

“What, Robb?”

“Now is that any way to greet your brother?” he replied, huffing.

“I’m busy,” Sansa told him, watching as Sandor drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and watched the traffic instead of her. “What do you want?”

“I, uh, I need you to go to my house.”

“Why?” Sansa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I need you to, um, get Rickon,” he admitted and Sansa closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What the hell, Robb?”

“Ok, listen, it’s not my fault. Mom took Bran to some therapist in Wisconsin and dad is on a business trip. I completely forgot Tali had a baby appointment today and if I miss it, she will kill me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Sansa hissed. “Where is Rickon?”

“My house, like I said. He’s fine,” Robb claimed and Sansa choked down her anger.

“Is he alone?”

“Grey Wind is there?”

“Dogs don’t count Robb,” Sansa snapped. “You’re an absolute idiot. He’s going to burn the place down!”

“I know, that’s why I called you,” he told her. He sounded annoyed. “Can you go get him? You just have to entertain him for the day, and then you can drop him off after Tali and my date tonight. No one has to know.”

“Why can’t Arya?” Sansa demanded, glancing at Sandor. He’d cleaned up so nicely, in a black cotton tee-shirt and dark wash jeans. His long hair was slightly damp, but his sunglasses hid his eyes from her.

“She’s not awake, I don’t think. And she doesn’t have a car. Fuck Sansa, mom will kill me if she finds out that I forgot Rickon and Tali will kill me if she realizes I forgot about this appointment. Do you want me dead San? Do you?”

“Yes,” Sansa declared bitingly before sighing. “You owe me. I mean, like big time owe me. Godmother of your child type owe me.”

“Done and done,” Robb said hastily. “Will you hurry over there? I’m pretty sure there’s some cake in the fridge that I was saving and—”

Sansa hung up on him without remorse, quickly opening her text conversation with Rickon. She typed out a frantic message, convinced that destructive boy had probably managed to level the city block by now.

_DO NOT MOVE. COMING TO GET YOU NOW._

“I am so sorry,” she looked up at Sandor sheepishly. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’d Robb want?”

“He, uh, left Rickon home alone,” Sansa admitted and Sandor’s tapping stopped.

“Bad idea?”

“The worst,” Sansa confirmed, nearly smiling to think of the time that Rickon had tried to make a pizza one afternoon he’d been home sick. Her mother still claimed that she could smell something burning whenever she opened the oven. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go get him. And think of something to entertain him for the rest of the day. Fuck.”

“I can come with,” Sandor offered after a pause and Sansa’s head whipped up to look at him. “I’ve probably got a better chance of controlling him than you.”

“But lunch,” Sansa said a little sadly, looking at the cute bistro he’d brought her to. He chuckled as he put the truck in reverse, backing out of his parking spot.

“We can still get lunch little bird. What’s your brother like?”

“Pizza,” Sansa informed him. “In fact, he eats mostly pizza.”

“We can have pizza at my place,” Sandor reached across the console and patted her knee for a second, just once. Sansa’s whole body went warm. “Sound good?”

“Great,” she replied through numb lips before giving him directions to Robb and Talisa’s house. When they arrived, Sansa practically flew out of the truck, racing for the door. When she found the key Talisa left under the Buddha statue in the garden and unlocked the door, Sandor joined her. She let them both in, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it looked like the kitchen was still standing.

“Hi sissy,” Rickon appeared in the doorway, holding an entire plate of german chocolate cake. Half seemed to be smeared around his mouth and Sansa wryly thought that it was only fair to let him have it.

“Hi Rick-rock,” Sansa replied, as Grey Wind bounded for her. She braced herself for the husky to try to barrel her over, but instead he bypassed her and went straight for Sandor. Sansa turned in surprise, watching as the large man was nearly knocked off his feet with the force of the dog’s leap.

“Easy there,” Sandor chuckled, trying to dodge Grey Wind’s frantic attempts to lick him to death. “Down boy.”

“I’m hungry,” Rickon announced, and Sansa gave him an incredulous look. She had anticipated a freak out from him at the sight of Sandor, or at the very least, several questions about what the hell he was doing with her. But Rickon just blinked his large blue eyes and took another bite of cake as Sandor wrestled with Grey Wind.

“We’re going to have pizza at Sandor’s,” Sansa explained.

“Sweet.” Rickon went to where he’d kicked his shoes off by the back door. Sansa watched as he pulled them on, expertly balancing the plate with one hand. “I like cheeseburger pizza best.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sandor replied, ruffling the fur under Grey Wind’s collar. Sansa glanced between the two boys then shut her mouth, baffled.

“Grab your school work too,” Sansa ordered when Rickon made a break for the door. He groaned and turned, giving her a strong pout. “I know you have some, and you can get it done. Backpack, now.”

“Fine,” he grumbled and went to get it from the front entry. Sandor snickered when he disappeared.

“What?” Sansa glanced up at him.

“Mom,” he gently mocked her and she rolled her eyes.

“You see my mom around?” She gestured to the empty house. “Someone has to be.”

“Let’s go,” Rickon blew past them, backpack thumping against his back. Sandor gave Grey Wind a little bit more attention before following Sansa out the house. She locked up behind them, put the key back under the statue, and walked to the truck. Rickon was clambering in, excitedly asking Sandor about it.

“—and how big are the tires?”

“Weigh more than you,” Sandor informed him as Sansa climbed into the passenger seat. “Buckle up then.”

“Okay.” Rickon tossed his backpack to the other seat, practically vibrating with excitement. “Does it have good speakers? Can you make it shake with the bass?”

“No.” Sansa put a hand out when Sandor reached for the stereo. “Rickon, his truck is not your toy.”

“I don’t mind,” Sandor pushed her hand away with a smile. “What you listen to, kid?”

“Oh no,” Sansa groaned, smiling despite herself when Rickon nearly vaulted into the front seat.

“You ever heard of Lil Xan?”

“No,” Sansa said forcefully. “I am a no Soundcloud rappers zone, and that extends to Sandor too.”

“Lame,” Rickon muttered, sinking back. Sandor he gave her an amused look.

“Know who Nirvana is?” Sandor asked as he fiddled with the dials.

“No. Does he rap?” Rickon questioned and Sansa snorted. Sandor paused, then twisted to glance back at Rickon for a moment.

“What year were you born again?”

“2004,” Rickon answered blithely and Sandor cringed.

“He was born, like, the year I was drafted,” he told Sansa sadly. She patted his arm sympathetically.

“If it’s any better, I’m fairly certain you’re about to play a song from when I wasn’t even born yet.”

“You Starks.” Sandor gave her a dirty look. “You’re about to be cultured.”

“Really?” Sansa asked, when the opening strains of Smells Like Teen Spirit began. “You’re going to play the most basic song?”

“Ease him into it,” Sandor rationalized. “Expose him to the best one right out the gate.”

“I think this is in our hockey warmup,” Rickon said, bobbing his head along with the beat.

“That’s what it’s come to?” Sandor looked at Sansa. “Most influential band of all time and kid knows them because of a warmup mix?”

“You’re gonna have to let it go.” Sansa grinned as the lyrics started. They rode in silence, listening, until the song ended.

“Well?” Sandor demanded.

“It’s okay,” Rickon said. He might as well have shot Sandor in the foot. He looked back, dismayed and disappointed.

“How about we listen to our favorite song?” Sansa offered and Rickon shrugged.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, as Sansa hooked up her phone to the auxiliary cord. Sandor eyed her, distrusting. She ignored him, scrolling through her playlist and changing the input. When the song began, Sandor didn’t look away from the road, but his jaw went slack. Sansa turned the volume up as high as it could go before she and Rickon began scream-singing on the same cue.

“DO DO DO DOOOOO!”

“AHHHHHHH…. AHHHHHHH!”

“WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD MEN GONE—”

“AND WHERE ARE ALL THE GODS?”

“WHERE’S THE STREETWISE HERCULES—”

“TO FIGHT THE RISING ODDS—”

“What the hell?” Sandor yelled over the music, but Sansa and Rickon kept up their duet, well practiced from drives to school and the rink and vacations up north. They had a sort of call and response routine that they’d perfected. Sansa turned in her seat, using a pen as a microphone.

“I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night,” she sang.

“He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight!” Rickon shrieked back, his voice managing to drown out Bonnie Tyler and the synth both.

“What is going on?” Sandor shouted as they stopped at the light. “What the fuck?”

Sansa and Rickon screamed through the rest of the song, lyrics firmly engrained in their heads. Sandor watched them the whole time, a look of permanent surprise on his face as Rickon ended the song with a dramatic flourish. Sansa turned it down immediately so that the next song didn’t blow their eardrums, taking a deep breath. Rickon sat back, drawing out his own phone like nothing had happened.

“Our mom really loves bad 80’s music,” Sansa explained casually. “After a while you stop mocking and you just start embracing it.”

“That was... like nothing I have ever heard,” Sandor replied, still a little stunned. “I didn’t know cheesy pop songs could be sung with that much… passion.”

“Jon made up a dance to it,” Sansa recalled fondly.

“I can about imagine,” Sandor chuckled and Rickon thrust his phone at Sansa.

“Here, it’s Chance the Rapper. You like him and he’s not a Soundcloud rapper.”

“Fine,” Sansa relented, unplugging her own phone and taking Rickon’s. For the rest of the ride to Sandor’s, they tried to explain to him what exactly a Soundcloud rapper was.

“Alright, let’s go see what pizza I have,” he said, once they arrived at his apartment. Rickon sprang past them, not bewildered in the slightest at the day’s events. Sansa and Sandor followed, a little slower.

“I mean, I knew the kid wasn’t the most observant, but this is next level,” Sansa remarked, as Rickon got distracted by the glass sculptures in the lobby.

“What do you mean?” Sandor glanced at her and Sansa raised her voice.

“Rickon! No! Don’t touch. Straight to elevator,” she ordered and he dropped his hand, stomping towards the hallway. Sansa turned up to look at Sandor, who was clearly amused. “Don’t you think it’s funny that his big sister shows up with a former pro hockey player and he doesn’t even question why? Doesn’t ask what we’re doing together? Why you’re with me? Nothing.”

“He’s a hockey player, isn’t he?” Sandor pointed out with a smirk and Sansa gave a startled laugh at they caught up with Rickon. Sandor pressed the button for their floor while Rickon made faces in the mirror.

“What are we gonna do after this?” he asked, looking down at his phone. “After pizza, I mean.”

“Hadn’t really planned on having you today,” Sansa admitted. “What do you want to do?”

“I dunno,” Rickon shrugged. “Something fun.”

“Something fun for a 13-year-old boy. Sounds great,” Sandor muttered and Sansa shook her head, thinking that when she next saw Robb, she would murder him.

“Which one is yours?” Rickon demanded, running down the hall. Sansa cringed, but Sandor just chuckled.

“This one,” he informed him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Rickon raced past him, skidding to a stop.

“Cool,” he breathed. Sansa smiled as she set down her purse and followed Sandor to the kitchen.

“Anything I can help with?” she asked as he opened the freezer.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” he smiled before sticking his head out. “Meat lover’s okay?”

“Yeah!” Rickon replied, already picking up the remote and turning the tv on.

“I’ve got a flatbread for us,” Sandor offered and Sansa fought to contain her beaming.

“Sounds good since he can eat a whole one on his own,” she said then turned to Rickon, who already had the tv on ESPN. “Could you be any ruder? This is Sandor’s place, not your jungle gym.”

“Nah, leave that on, I want to hear them discussing the game today,. Sandor waved a hand, turning his oven on and unboxing the pizza. Rickon sank down on the couch and watched the screen intently. Sansa took a deep breath then sat down at the kitchen table with her phone out. What the hell were they going to do today?

“Who do you like?” Rickon asked Sandor, once the pizza was in and the bigger man had wandered into the living room. Sansa’s heart seized up with a beat of fear, but then Sandor laughed and she realized they were talking about sports teams, not people.

“I’m from Canada. I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but you live in Minnesota now,” Rickon said, like it should’ve been obvious. “That means you cheer for the Vikes, right?”

“Just because you live somewhere doesn’t mean you have to cheer for that team.” Sansa wondered if Rickon was too old for mini golf.

“Obviously,” Rickon scoffed. “Mom still cheers for the Badgers, even though she’s from here and she married dad.”

“I’ll root for the underdog,” Sandor told Rickon, who snorted.

“Then cheer for Minnesota. We’re always the underdog.”

Sansa worried that the boys wouldn’t get along, but it wasn’t more than two minutes and they were both on the couch, listening to the tv and debating between the two of them which team from the NHL would have the strongest showing. She minded the pizzas, trying to see what might be fun for them to explore. When the oven dinged and she went to remove them, Rickon leapt up in excitement.

“Don’t—god, use a plate, you savage,” Sansa chided when Rickon tried to grab the whole thing.

“Here.” Sandor opened a cupboard and handed him one. “Try that.”

“Thanks!” Rickon bounced on the balls of his feet, impatiently waiting for Sansa to cut the pizza. When she was done, he grabbed four slices and made for the living room.

“Table!” Sansa had murder in her voice, and Rickon carefully turned back, sinking down into a chair that still had a good view of the tv. “Honestly, who raised you?”

“He’s a good kid,” Sandor remarked, as Rickon devoured a whole piece in one bite.

“You don’t have to say that. I know he is a wild child,” Sansa muttered.

 

“Wild, yeah, but good heart,” Sandor replied and Sansa looked at him in surprise. “Can’t say the same for some kids.”

“Well,” Sansa looked at her brother with a faint sense of pride, “he’ll never admit it but he’s a sensitive kid. He once saved a fox kit. Tried to bring it into the house. Mom about killed him, but it was pretty cute.”

“Good heart,” Sandor repeated, as Rickon inhaled his second piece.

“Mhmm.” Sansa cut their flatbread and passed him a plate. “Still no idea what we’re going to do with him today though.”

“Leave that up to me,” Sandor suggested with a little smile and Sansa blinked, taken aback. Sandor went to sit next to Rickon and grilled him on how he was training for the upcoming season. Sansa sat across from the two of them, eating and hiding her smile.

“Now what?” Rickon asked once he’d devoured the entire pizza. Sandor looked at Sansa, impressed, but she could only shrug. She had warned him. It wasn’t even two in the afternoon yet and they still had the whole day ahead of them to keep him busy. She was ready to tell Sandor that he didn’t have to entertain her and her little brother when he stood and stretched.

“What do you say to a little contest?” he offered and Rickon’s eyes lit up with a competitive glint.

“What kind?” he asked eagerly.

“The kind you can’t win,” Sandor informed him. Rickon looked affronted until Sandor continued. “I know a guy with the keys to Mariucci. We won’t even have to break in.”

“Oh god.” Sansa couldn’t help her little smile.

“Really?” Rickon leapt up, beaming.

“Yeah, you and me, one on one,” Sandor replied, folding his arms. “You beat me, I’ll start you next year, first line.”

“Cool!” Rickon was shaking from head to foot with excitement. “But I don’t have sticks or skates or—”

“We’ve got extras at the arena,” Sandor waved a hand. “You scared?”

“No,” Rickon said quickly, then turned to Sansa as if remembering his manners. “Can I go? I mean, can we go?”

“Yes,” she laughed, “but afterwards you do homework and you don’t complain, okay?”

“Deal!” he shouted.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Sansa remarked with amusement, as Rickon dove for his phone.

“Been meaning to work on my stamina anyways,” Sandor waved a hand and Sansa glanced up at him, grinning.

A few hours later, Sandor was laying on the ice, panting, while Rickon whooped and skated around the rink, puck handling.

“I told you,” Sansa reminded Sandor, who pointed his stick at her.

“Not another word, little bird.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sansa put her hands up, grinning. Then she raced after Rickon. Sandor had changed into his practice sweats and dressed Rickon in some of the spare clothes and skates from the locker room. Sansa had on one of Sandor’s sweatshirts that hung down to her knees, sweatpants that she’d had to knot to stay up on her hips, and old skates that he’d found in a closet. They’d fit her fine, and when she’d stepped onto the ice and skated, testing them out, Sandor had looked stunned.

“Let’s see that slapshot!” Rickon yelled, passing her the puck. Sansa wound up, making contact with as much force as she could muster. The puck went wide by a huge margin, but it hit the boards with a satisfying clap, making Rickon’s laughter echo throughout the building. “Clap bomb!”

“The next Shea Weber.” Sansa laughed as Rickon retrieved the puck and turned to start his assault anew on Sandor.

“Is this how you win games?” Sandor demanded, skating backwards, trying to defend him. “Sheer speed?”

“The game has changed, old man,” Rickon chirped and Sandor growled, lunging for Rickon. Sansa gasped when he caught Rickon around the knees and lifted him up off the ice. Rickon shouted and began to protest between bouts of laughter.

“Don’t hurt each other.” Sansa winced, watching as Rickon attempted to get Sandor into a headlock.

“Your sister worries too much,” Sandor told Rickon, as he sat him atop the goal.

“Yeah, we tell her that a lot,” Rickon said wisely, kicking his feet slightly. Sandor turned to Sansa, tossing his stick aside, a glint in his grey eyes and Sansa froze.

“No, don’t—” She tried to object but when he started skating for her, she shrieked and tried to make a break for it, dropping her stick. It was futile; he had longer strides than her, and he was a professional hockey player to boot. She hadn’t even made it to the blue line when he caught up to her. He swept her off her feet, coasting as he hefted her, adjusting so that she fit better in his arms.

“You’re not very fast,” he commented casually as though this was natural for them. Sansa huffed and tried to elbow him.

“I’d take you in a foot race,” she warned him and he chortled, leisurely skating in a wide arch. Sansa could feel his muscular chest, his broad shoulders. The warmth that flushed over her that had nothing to do with the exertion of skating and she did her best not to blush. Sandor skated them towards Rickon, who was still sitting on top of the goal, watching with mild disinterest. Sandor kept Sansa tight to his chest as he stopped in front of her brother.

“What now?” he asked as Sansa wavered between clutching Sandor closer and demanding he put her down.

“I’m hungry again,” Rickon declared and Sansa sighed. That was typical.

“Agreed.” Sandor didn’t seem to want to put her down so she remained in his arms, content. “But you need to shower kid.”

“You both do,” Sansa stated and Sandor looked down at her, affronted. Sansa grinned, breathless when she realized how close he was to her. She could stretch up and kiss him if she wanted.

“I need new clothes too,” Rickon reminded her, breaking the moment and Sansa tore her eyes off Sandor’s lips.

“My place is close and I’ve got some of your stuff there,” she said, taking a deep breath, disappointed that Sandor would likely drop them off. This was, in no way, how she’d expected their simple lunch date to go, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Can we have pizza at Sandor’s?” Rickon requested and Sansa couldn’t help that her gaze flickered up to Sandor.

“No, I’m sure we’ve bothered him enough that—”

“Sure,” Sandor said easily, “but how about burgers instead?”

“Cheeseburgers?” Rickon bargained and Sandor laughed.

“Yeah, fine. Grab the sticks then.”

“Sweet!” Rickon hopped off the goal, snatching the sticks that Sandor and Sansa had discarded, taking a lap around the rink more, hollering at the top of his lungs just to hear it echo.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Sansa told Sandor quietly as they watched Rickon.

“Nah, I want to,” he told her. “He’s fun.”

“Not what I had in mind though,” Sansa said wryly.

“That’s alright,” Sandor looked down at her and Sansa’s stomach dropped out entirely. “This is fine.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, leaning forward slightly, heart in her throat. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tell him how fast her heart was beating. She wanted to do so much, but before she could even decide, the door to ice banged open and startled them both. Sansa jerked back, remembering that Rickon was still very much present. For all his obliviousness, she wasn’t sure that a kiss would escape his notice.

“Better go,” Sandor chuckled and carefully set her down. Sansa wanted to protest but then his hand reached down and found hers, intertwining their fingers. Sansa beamed, and skated off the ice with him.

Rickon jabbered a thousand miles an hour as they put things back like they’d found them. Sansa only heard about half of it; when she’d gone to pull off the sweats that had kept her warm on the ice, Sandor had helped her tug the sweatshirt off. She’d momentarily lost all hearing when it’d happened, only able to see the little smirk on his face. But eventually they were back in his truck and headed for Sansa’s apartment. She dug out her phone and opened the group chat she had with her roommates.

_You two home???_

Margaery’s reply came first.

**No, at the spa with my cousins. It’s soooooooooo needed.**

Sansa could only roll her eyes, but then grinned when she saw Jeyne’s answer.

**No. Library. Some of us plan on getting a degree.**

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring the rest of the messages, mostly arguments between her roommates over Margaery’s plan to marry rich. She was surprised that she didn’t have to give Sandor directions to her place, staying quiet as he parked along the street and turned to look at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do you have snacks?” Rickon asked as he opened the door and got out of the truck. Sansa bit back a chuckle and shot Sandor a look that seemed to say, ‘what can you do?’

“There’s some in the pantry, but don’t eat them all,” Sansa replied as she stepped out of the truck. “We’re having burgers, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry now!”

“Well, wait,” Sansa ordered, smiling as Sandor got out and followed her. They all trooped up the stairs and Sansa unlocked the door, wondering in what state of chaos Margaery had left the living room. Her worst fears were realized when she saw the clothes, shoes, books, and work out gear strewn around. She sighed and step aside, gesturing for them to come in. “Welcome to our home.”

“Snacks!” Rickon blew past her, thrilled. Sandor stepped in and looked around. Sansa shrugged, noting that a bra hung from the edge on the bookshelf. She let it all go, then went to her bedroom to get some clothes for Rickon. She always kept a stash of garments for each sibling tucked in the back of her closet in anticipation of them getting unexpectedly dropped off or staying over. Rickon’s option was a pair of joggers and a tee-shirt from a tournament with his name and number on the back. Sansa grabbed it and walked out of her closet, stopping in surprise when she saw Sandor hovering in the doorway, like he was unsure of invading her space.

“You can come in,” she told him with a little smile, tossing Rickon’s clothes on the bed. She went to grab stuff of her own, figuring that she could some homework done while Rickon did his. Sandor stepped inside, looking around. Compared to the living room, Sansa’s room was immaculate. She kept her things neat and organized, everything coordinated with the aesthetic mood board she’d created on Pinterest.

“Make sense,” he commented, walking through and nodding. Sansa frowned, tilting her head as she put books in her backpack.

“Pardon?”

“That your room looks like this,” he gestured broadly. “Fits right in with your look.”

“I have a look?” Sansa put her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, you do.” Sandor paused by the dresser. On top of it she had a large framed picture of her dancing, several knick-knacks of varying importance, and her jewelry box. “Little dancer girl.”

“Well your apartment looks like it was designed by a robot,” Sansa retorted and Sandor turned, eyebrows raised.

“Does not.”

“There’s not a single picture of you in it,” Sansa stated, unplugging her laptop charger from behind her bed.

“There is too,” Sandor looked vaguely affronted.

“Not that I could see.”

“Were you looking?”

“Yes.” Sansa watched as he stood in front of her mirror, looking at all the pictures. “Just like you’re looking now.”

“Well,” he turned away from them, his grey eyes dark, “you’re more interesting than me.”

“Am I?” Sansa crossed her arms as she tried to contain herself. Her room was spacious, but with Sandor in it, it suddenly felt as though the four walls were closing in on her. “You’re the professional athlete and coach.”

“You’re you,” Sandor replied. He took a step closer and before Sansa could ask him what the hell that meant, a loud bang followed by clattering came from the kitchen.

“Rickon,” Sansa turned her eyes skyward and pleaded for the patience not to kill him. Then she grabbed everything and left her room and Sandor, going to see what he’d done. Peanuts covered her kitchen floor while Rickon sat midst them, unbothered, eating from the tub of frozen yogurt.

“Sorry,” he said instantly, upon seeing her and Sansa rubbed between her eyes.

“Why?” she asked though she knew there was no good answer.

“I wanted to—”

“Clean it up.” Sansa held up her hand. “Then we’re going to go. And leave the fro-yo, that’s Jeyne’s!”

“Fine,” Rickon sighed, scooping all the nuts up around him.

“Does he ever not cause destruction?” Sandor asked, pausing behind her and Sansa rubbed her temples.

“It’s best to childproof things and hope for the best.”

Sansa decided that she was becoming entirely too comfortable in Sandor’s truck. As they drove back to his place, she found herself with the window rolled down, feet on the dash, singing along to the music Rickon was playing. Sandor kept glancing over at her, a little smile on his face. It felt too natural; if she let her mind wander for longer than a moment, she could picture them on the drives out to Winterfell on hot summer days, windows down, wind blowing through her hair.

It was too easy to think of him in this way, she was beginning to realize. She had visions of little moments of them together, just wistful thinking that turned to day dreaming if left unchecked. Them, getting Izzy’s ice cream and eating it while sitting beside his apartment’s pool. His broad form on the boat, helping her brothers with the ropes and boards. Him in a robe and slippers, making them coffee as the snow came down outside. Her, laughing, while he spun her around on skates. Their first hockey game together. Them going skiing in Colorado and her teaching him how. 

 

Rickon also seemed to be getting just a little bit too comfortable, she thought wryly, when he ran for the lobby. This time, he wasn’t distracted by the sparkling objects, but went straight for the elevator. Sansa and Sandor followed him, a little slower, Sandor taking Sansa’s bag and refusing to hear her argument against it. He let them into the apartment once again and gave Sansa a little smile. 

 

“Shower’s this way,” he told Rickon, leading him into it. Sansa neatly folded Rickon’s clothes and set them on the edge of the sink as Sandor explained to him how to work the hot and the cold. Then he shut the door and Sansa heard Rickon begin his best attempt at the refrain of the latest Lil Pump song. 

 

“Sorry, he’s a shower singer,” she explained as Sandor chuckled. 

 

“No worries. Help me with supper?” he asked. Sansa nodded and went to wash her hands in the kitchen sink. Sandor brought out meat and veggies for kababs, and some for burgers as well. Sansa chopped and skewered to the best of her abilities, appreciating the way that she and Sandor could work well in such a small space together. 

 

“Where’s your grill?” She wondered if they’d have to go down to the outdoor patio. Sandor smiled, putting the burgers and kebabs on a large plate. 

 

“This is what I should’ve showed you the other night,” he told her. He brushed past her and Sansa followed him with a slightly bewildered expression, wondering just where in the hell he was taking her. He opened the door to what she’d assumed was his bedroom, but he didn’t hesitate, instead going straight for the sliding glass door. 

 

Sansa only had a few seconds to see the wide king bed with a simple grey comforter and a basic bedroom set of furniture before she walked out the sliding glass down. Sandor had a large balcony that showcased the beautiful city skyline even better than the window in his living room. Sansa noted vaguely that he had a grill and a simple table with a few chairs around it, but she stood at the edge and looked out with awe. 

 

“Holy shit, this is….” 

 

“They call it the relaxed side of the river,” Sandor explained as he turned on the grill. “All the prettiness of downtown, none of the crime.” 

 

“None?” Sansa turned to him and he glanced over his shoulder, chortling. 

 

“Alright, less crime.” 

 

“Wow,” Sansa wrapped her arms around herself and swayed slightly in the setting sun. “This is quite possibly the prettiest view I’ve ever seen.” 

 

“Mhmm,” Sandor hummed in agreement. Sansa watched the goings on of the passerbys below her in interest, remaining where she was even when Sandor slipped past her and went back inside. She was just trying to decide if she should shout down to the man below on a Segway tour that his son had fallen when something tapped her shoulder. 

 

“Oh.” She turned around, noting in surprise that Sandor was offering her a large glass of red wine. He held a second glass in his other hand, and he had a slight smile on his face, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“For you.” 

 

“You are too sweet,” Sansa thanked him, taking it. “You’ve been so sweet to me, I can’t even begin to say thank you.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed, setting his glass down and going back to the grill. “I didn’t even have to think of a date idea.” 

 

“Date idea, huh?” The notion that he saw these as dates filled Sansa with irrational happiness. 

“Yeah, don’t know what I would’ve done after sandwiches if it wasn’t sneaking you and your kid brother into my work and getting my ass kicked,” he joked, the burgers sizzling when he slapped them on the hot grill. 

 

“It’s alright. Not everyone can be gifted with skills like mine,” Sansa said solemnly and he gave her an incredulous look. She burst into laughter, nearly sloshing her wine out of the glass in her mirth. 

 

“You’re hilarious, little bird,” he replied dryly and Sansa grinned. 

 

“I know. Thank you for real though, you don’t have to feed him.”

 

“No, it’s not a big deal,” Sandor waved a hand. 

 

“You sure?” Sansa cringed when some man below catcalled a woman jogging along the river. 

 

“KEEP IT MOVING YOU CREEPY FUCKER!” Sandor bellowed over the rail and Sansa couldn’t hold back her grin. Then he turned back to her like it was nothing. “Pretty sure I damn near ate my billet family out of house and home when I was his age. I get it.” 

 

“Your billet family?” Sansa leaned forward. “What were they like?” 

 

“A billet family,” he said with a shrug. “Old man was a former coach. Probably why I got half as good as I did. All that really mattered to him was winning. He was the one who told me the only way in hell I was making it to the show was through my fists.” 

 

“Hmm.” Sansa tapped her lips with her fingers thoughtfully. She didn’t like the idea of Sandor being valued for nothing more than his brute strength, but she figured it wasn’t really her place to press him that way. “We’ve thought about being a billet family, but my parents can’t keep track of their true children, let alone adding someone else to the mix.” 

 

“Can’t imagine living with Ned Stark.” Sandor shook his head and Sansa folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. 

 

“Meaning?” 

 

“How many houses you have?” he asked her pointedly and Sansa looked down into her wine before sullenly responding, 

 

“Three.” 

 

“How many?” Sandor pretended to have not heard her and Sansa glared. 

 

“Three, jackass.” 

 

“Ah.” Sandor turned back to the grill. 

 

“That’s not a point,” Sansa protested. “We only have three because dad does a lot of work in California and it just makes sense for him to have an apartment out there instead of staying in a hotel.” 

 

“Sansa,” Sandor turned to her with a patient expression and Sansa instantly felt like a spoiled child, “the real world isn’t a mansion on a lake and apartments all over the states. It’s using your allowance to buy stick tape from the vending machine at the arena and trying to make that roll last you a whole season. It’s buying everything you can secondhand and the skates ripping your feet up cause they’re a size too small. Rickon is a great hockey player and a great kid. But he’s great because he’s has the chance to be.” 

 

“I know how the real world works,” Sansa told him peevishly. That’s why she’d joined a sorority, because she liked the philanthropy aspect of it. Every Christmas they’d adopted a family to buy presents for, and Sansa always donated her old clothes to Goodwill or women’s shelters. She knew she was lucky. She just didn’t know how to explain that to Sandor. 

 

“I know,” he assured her, going back to the grill. “You’ve got a better understanding of the world than half the guys I coach and most of those girls you dance with. But the world’s not a song, little bird. You told me I didn’t have anything personal in my apartment.” 

 

“Well, you don’t,” Sansa muttered, feeling very much like she was being scolded. 

 

“It’s because I never stayed anywhere long enough as a kid to learn how to make somewhere my own,” he stated and Sansa lifted her head in surprise, looking at his broad back. When he finally glanced back at her, it was with a sad little smile. Before she could figure out how to respond back, Rickon’s yell drifted out to them. 

 

“SANSA, I’M HUNGRY!” 

 

“I’ll go shower,” Sandor declared, closing the grill. Sansa just nodded, unable to unstick her throat. “Then we can eat?” 

 

“Sounds good,” she whispered and when he passed her, he reached up and gently tweaked her jaw so that she knew he wasn’t mad at her. Then he was inside and ordering Rickon to keep his hands out of the pantry. Sansa shook her head to clear it of any ideas of teenage Sandor in an unfamiliar room, rising and going back into the apartment. 

 

“Homework,” she ordered Rickon, holding the wine glass tightly. He groaned, shaking out his wet curls. “Stop, you know it won’t even take that long. You’ll finish it before we even eat, then you’ll have the whole evening to annoy me.” 

 

“Yeah, but I have math,” he grumbled, stomping over to where he’d thrown his backpack on the couch. “I suck at math.” 

 

“I can help,” Sansa offered, sitting down beside him. 

 

“Yeah, but I do new math,” Rickon reminded her. “Dad doesn’t even know how to do it and he’s like a genius.” 

 

“He’s also old, and I am a proud recent product of the Minnesota school systems,” Sansa pulled out her notebook and pen. “So hit me.” 

 

They both worked on his homework as Sandor showered. Sansa did her best not to think about the image of him soaping up, washing his hair, then his body, but it was a losing battle. Rickon breezed through a worksheet for social studies, then read the passage for his English class. He was just getting started on his math problems when Sandor emerged, having changed into shorts and a tee-shirt. 

 

Sansa’s whole body flushed. She remembered her teammates disbelief that she was seeing him on the account that she liked her men too pretty. But Sansa couldn’t understand why they didn’t see that Sandor was pretty; it was just a different sort of handsomeness than Robb or Loras or even Drogo. 

 

His scar wasn’t so apparent in the right light, but even then it never bothered Sansa much anyways. His grey eyes were quick and sparked with amusement or anger, depending on his mood. His hair was so dark, and Sansa noted with a pang of terrible fondness, that it curled slightly at the ends when it was damp. With his tall frame and the hockey player build, Sansa had decided there wasn’t anything about him that she’d change. 

 

“Want to eat on the balcony?” he offered. Rickon looked down at his homework then up at Sansa with pleading eyes. 

 

“You finish the homework right when we’re done,” she bargained and he grinned, leaping up. He helped Sandor with plates and utensils, leading the charge to the balcony. Sansa sat between the two of them as Rickon constructed a burger with a focused approach he usually only applied to hockey. Sansa laughed and drank her wine, occasionally reaching out and touching Sandor’s wrist. 

 

He told them stories from his years in the NHL, revealing which players were assholes, which were secretly big softies, who was the scariest to face off in a fight, and who had the best chirps. Rickon listened intently and Sansa couldn’t help but be drawn in as well, laughing and shaking her head. 

 

When Sandor went inside to get them dessert, Sansa set her wine glass on the railing of the balcony, adjusting the settings on her phone’s camera so that the skyline behind it was in focus and the wine glass was blurry. She snapped the photo, then edited it so that it popped, adding filters and messing with levels until it had just the right amount of sharpness and color to it, before adding a caption. 

 

_Is there a better view in the city?_

 

She added a few stickers to it, mostly the temperature and the wine glass emoji, and then a single black heart in the corner. She smiled, figuring it was fitting for Sandor. Then she posted it to her story, wondering if the girls would notice and say anything at all. She felt her phone buzzing but ignored it as Sandor came back and handed her a chocolate parfait. 

 

“This has been the best day ever, do you know that?” she told him quietly, as Rickon worked to finish up his math homework. Sandor had promised they’d play a few rounds on the latest NHL video game, at least until Sansa put Rickon in an Uber and sent him home to Robb. Sandor turned to her, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah,” Sansa stated, lifting the wine glass to her lips. Sandor smiled, watching her. “Except next time I think we should do it without Rickon.” 

 

“I dunno,” Sandor gestured to Rickon, who was chewing on his pen, brow furrowed. “You have to admit he adds an element of surprise to it.” 

 

“Something like that,” Sansa laughed and looked fondly at Sandor. To her delight, he reached over and firmly entangled their fingers, smiling back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said this is my fav chapter so plz leave me a review if you liked it too
> 
> also i hit a deer this week and that is a major bummer so reviews cheer me up
> 
> i love and appreciate you all, may many tiny blessings be showered upon you


	8. Honeycrisp Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i am blown away by the love and kindness shown to me. there is honestly nothing more heartwarming and i could give each and every one of you a massive hug for it. my thanks is eternal and endless. 
> 
> please enjoy. 
> 
> (and if you've never had a honeycrisp apple they are life changing)

_I don’t think I’m going to survive homecoming week. I don’t think I can do it._

 

**C’mon now little bird.**

 

_Not even being dramatic this time!_

 

**Finding that very hard to believe.**

 

_Do you want to see what my schedule looks like for the next week?_

 

**Can’t be that bad.**

 

_Attachment: 1 image_

 

**Oh holy shit. That’s….**

 

_Uh huh. Told you. Feel bad for me now?_

 

**When are you sleeping?**

 

_Those are the grey blocks._

 

**That’s only like two hours a night Stark!**

 

_I told you. Insanity. I’m not going to survive._

 

**Just tell me how to help and I’ll do whatever you need.**

 

Sansa looked up from her phone and tried to hide her fond smile. She and the rest of her sorority sisters were making decorations for homecoming. Roslin was sitting beside her, humming as she glued fake flowers to their letters. Sansa sorted the flowers by color before she replied to Sandor. 

 

_Just follow me around with an espresso machine and make sure my hand is never empty._

 

**Not sure if I’m cut out to be an on demand barista, but I’ll see what I can do, alright?**

 

_Too bad. I think you’d rock the hell out of a Starbucks apron._

 

**You’re pushing it little bird.**

 

“I hope that Ygritte doesn’t make us wear the ‘ski-u-mah’ face tats this year,” Roslin remarked, frowning when she got some hot glue on her finger. “I had the weirdest tan line until like January.” 

 

“Sunscreen,” Sansa reminded her and Roslin made a face. 

 

“No, I want to be tan.” 

 

“Oh boy.” Sansa shook her head and went back to crafting. 

 

She loved homecoming week—she really did—but this year was looking to be even more intense than the last two years had been. Between doing things for Greek life, a presentation to alumni with her Spanish club, and all the appearances she had to make as a dancer, there was hardly time to breathe. On top of it all, her parents had declared that homecoming weekend was going to be a big family celebration. Sansa was sure she was going to be sleeping on her feet when all was said and done. 

 

But it was just one week she promised herself, and the weather looked like it was going to be beautiful. The crisp sort of fall day only Minnesota could have, where the wind was just brisk enough to offset the warmth of the sun and the leaves flaunted their brilliance for the masses of people sure to descend on the campus. Sansa just had to take it a day at a time, and in the end she would look back at the blur of it all in fondness. Besides, the next week was their bye week, and Sansa intended to take the entire weekend to catch up on all the sleep she’d been missing. 

 

“Sansa, those look perfect,” someone yelled when Sansa set the letters against the wall to dry. She grinned, brushing off her hands when her watch buzzed on her wrist. She glanced down, sighing. 

 

“Roslin,” she raised her voice. “C’mon, we have a team meeting. We have to be there in like ten minutes.” 

 

“Is this the bullshit meeting we get before homecoming every year that talks about how we represent the university and we’re the face of the athletic program and we need to conduct ourselves appropriately?” she complained as they left the sorority house and went for Sansa’s jeep. 

 

“You know it is,” Sansa replied, unlocking it and climbing in. “And may I remind you that it might be a little needed, considering that last year Dany was topless at a bonfire?” 

 

“Good times,” Roslin said fondly. 

 

“Something like that,” Sansa chortled, putting it in reverse. They all filed into the studio, half of them in workout clothes, the other half in normal street attire. Mel had broken cardio workouts into different times since they were all so busy with other things, and judging by fatigue in their shoulders, Sansa was suddenly glad she’d gotten it out of the way this morning. 

 

“She’s trying to kill us,” Shae complained. “I have so much shit to do this week, why do I have to add running three miles in under half an hour to my plate?” 

 

“If you can’t do that, how the hell are you ever going to do pom?” Arianne teased, and before Shae could retort, Mel walked in, arms folded and eyes narrowed. 

 

“Ladies,” she said sharply, “do I need to remind you why we’re here?” 

 

“Dany said she was sorry last year,” Irri remarked as she leaned back against Dany’s shins. 

 

“What happened last year?” Alayaya asked, glancing over her shoulder. 

 

“Mother of dragons.” Dany’s face was utterly serious, even as the rest of the girls broke out in snickers. 

 

“I won’t have any such stunts getting pulled this year,” Mel’s sharp voice brought them back into focus. “You ladies are the face of this program, and....”

 

Sansa tried to focus, but it was the same speech she’d gotten the last two years about duty and responsibility, about showing up ready to perform, about being early and prepared, about staying sober and polite, posing for pictures and keeping a peppy, happy smile on their faces at all times. Half through Mel’s review of their week and where they’d need to be, Sansa pulled her phone out discreetly.

 

_Do you have to tell your hockey boys how to behave for homecoming week?_

 

**Do you really think they’d listen?**

 

_Alright that’s fair._

 

**Are you being told how to behave?**

 

_Sadly, yes._

 

**Sounds like a massive waste of time. You’re well behaved. You ever broken a rule a day in your life?**

 

_Yes!_

 

**Name one.**

 

_When I was 18, I snuck out to meet a boy and go to a concert at first ave. I was caught before I even made it to the garage, but the point is, I tried!_

 

**A regular criminal mastermind you are.**

 

_My skills lie in other things, I will have you know._

 

**Clearly.**

 

“I think we should wear the ski-u-mah tats,” Ygritte announced loudly, once Mel was done and Roslin groaned. 

 

“No! They give us weird tan lines!” 

 

“So should I expect to see you at all this week?” Jeyne asked Sansa once they’d been dismissed. 

 

“Absolutely not,” Sansa laughed. “If I’m not here I’ll probably be in the library or at the Kappa house. Why does everyone wait to do anything until homecoming and then try to cram everything into one week?” 

 

“No idea,” Jeyne sighed. “But do you ever think, maybe, that you take a little too much on, Sansa?” 

 

“No.” She waved a hand. “I like being busy besides. What else would I be doing if I wasn’t busy with stuff?” 

 

“Resting, for one thing,” Jeyne suggested and Sansa scoffed. “I’m not saying you have to drop out of everything. I’m just saying that I would support you unconditionally if you decided to do a little less.” 

 

“You might, but would my mother?” Sansa attempted to joke, but Jeyne just gave her a sad smile and patted her shoulder. Sansa tried to shake it off and headed for the library so she could work on her paper due Thursday. When she sat at one of the wide tables, she pulled out her planner and carefully ran her finger across color coded sections for the week. 

 

Blue was class. Red was workouts outside of dance. Green was dance practices, while gold was dance performances. Pink was sorority obligations. Orange was for all clubs and related activities. Any time free to study and do class work was called out in a bright fuchsia. Grey was her limited sleeping hours. And then there were black lines, denoting time reserved for family bonding. Sansa sighed at the lack of yellow, the color she’d taken to using when she got to see Sandor. 

 

No yellow, and a worrying lack of grey. 

 

She was in her fuchsia time though, and she had too little of it to waste, so she put Sandor from her mind and pulled out her laptop, spreading out her books across the table and putting her headphones in. 

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning came all too early for her liking. She groaned and rolled over, patting around for her phone to shut off her alarm. Her screen was already lit up with notifications reminding her of what was due today, where she needed to be, and who needed her. She rolled out of bed, going to put on the workout outfit she’d laid out the night before. She was brushing her teeth when her phone buzzed the certain pattern she’d assigned to Sandor. She reached for it, wondering what he was doing up so early. 

 

**Stop at the juice bar after your workout.**

 

**Oh, and happy homecoming.**

 

Bewildered, Sansa wound up her hair. She had no idea what he had planned for her, but she didn’t want to protest. So instead she got ready for the day before heading over to the gym. There were only a few early birds like her who went to Mel’s early morning time and Sansa smiled at Arianne, who looked grumpy. 

 

“This week would be a lot more fun if it was over,” the senior complained as they put their bags away and changed into their running shoes. 

 

“You’re nominated for court though,” Mya reminded her. “You should be loving this.” 

 

“I’ll love it more when it’s done,” Arianne stated, standing and offering her hand to pull Sansa up. “It’s just too stressful now.” 

 

“I think it’s fun,” Shireen offered and Missy laughed, patting her cheek. 

 

“Enjoy freshman year while you can,” she said sagely before Sansa looked down at her watch and clapped her hands. 

 

“Alright, warming up first, we’re going to run 400 intervals. I know, I know, it sucks,” Sansa shouted over the groans. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

 

Sansa was covered in sweat after the workout but in the end, it took less time than she’d anticipated. She’d have a whole twenty extra minutes to get ready for her day. She toed off her shoes while Arianne flopped down on the ground. 

 

“You should stand after workouts,” Mya reminded her and Arianne flipped her the bird, dark hair contrasting against the grey floor. 

 

“You should fuck off.” 

 

“No fighting,” Sansa laughed, nudging Arianne with her toe. “We’ve got a long week ahead and we have to do it together.” 

 

“I just want to go back to bed,” Missy told them all, pulling her curly hair up off her neck, “and sleep until Nationals.” 

 

“That’s the dream,” Arianne grumbled, sitting up. 

 

“Stop being crabby,” Sansa ordered. “I’m going to the juice bar. Anyone else coming?” 

 

“Nope.” Mya slung her bag over her shoulder. 

 

“Can’t move,” Arianne moaned while Missy merely shrugged. 

 

“I was gonna go meet Grey for coffee.” 

 

“Fine.” Sansa blew them all a kiss. “I’ll see you ladies later.” 

 

She walked down to the juice bar, wondering what the hell she was going to find there. It seemed the same as always, but when she walked up the counter, the girl working turned and her face lit up. 

 

“Are you Sansa?” 

 

“I am,” Sansa confirmed slowly. 

 

“Great, your order is already paid for,” she informed her. “Whatever you want.” 

 

“I, uh, oh,” Sansa blinked rapidly, slightly startled. “A, uh, triple berry smoothie then. With protein please.” 

 

“Got it.” The girl cheerfully went about making it, while Sansa dug for her phone, pulling up the conversation with Sandor. 

 

_This is so incredibly sweet of you. How can I say thank you?_

 

**No thanks needed. Have a good Monday little bird.**

 

_You too Sandor._

 

She took her smoothie with a smile. She sipped it and felt like she was walking on air as she went back to her apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The days were long, but Sansa was surprised at how quickly they went. It helped that each day she had some form of surprise waiting for her. Monday was her smoothie; then on Tuesday it was a bouquet of flowers that were delivered to her apartment. Sansa told her roommates they were from her parents, even as the card read, 

 

_Keep smiling, my little bird._

 

She kept the card tucked into the edge of her mirror. 

 

Wednesday was her second busiest day of the week, and she went nearly the whole day without anything from Sandor. She was just thinking that he’d forgotten, or that she was selfish for assuming he’d do something every day, when a Jimmy John’s delivery man walked into the library where she was studying, holding a sandwich and chips. 

 

“Sansa?” he called and she rose, surprised. He handed her the bag and left. She sank down, and looked at her phone. She had a text from Sandor. 

 

**Told you I’d get you back for the pasta.**

 

_You’re not here. I’m demanding a do over._

 

**Fine by me.**

 

It took her until Thursday to realize that he knew where she was going to be because she’d sent him her schedule; therefore, she wasn’t surprised on Friday when she walked up towards the empty studios and found him leaning against the door of one. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and gave her a hesitant smile. He held two coffee cups, one of which he thrust at her eagerly. She chuckled, folding her arms. 

 

“And what are you doing?” she asked him. 

 

“Trying to see you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Sansa grinned, reaching out to pluck the coffee from his hand. 

 

“You’re too sweet. Glad you figured out my planner,” she said as she let them into the studio. He trailed behind her, snorting. 

 

“Wasn’t like it was hard to figure out what ‘alone time comma studio question mark’ meant,” he replied. 

 

Sansa set down her bag. “You’re cracked the code.” 

 

“If you wanted it to be alone time, I can leave,” Sandor offered, still near the door and Sansa looked at him. 

 

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” she said hastily. “I just, if I had known that you were going to be here, I would’ve shaded it yellow.” 

 

“Yellow?” He furrowed his eyebrows and she grinned. 

 

“Yeah, yellow. I just figured by today I’d want a little bit of time to unwind, review steps for this weekend, practice our upcoming routine, that stuff,” she explained. 

 

“I intruded,” Sandor reached for the door handle. “I’ll go.” 

 

“No,” Sansa said hastily. “No Sandor, I really… I really do want you to stay. Please. You can tell me what you think.” 

 

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her. She nodded and gestured for him to sit at the front. He went and she had to repress her snickers at the sight of such a large man sitting crosslegged like a child, watching her intently. 

 

“Alright, what do you want to see?” she asked, feeling a little self conscious. 

 

“Whatever you want to show me,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Always like whatever you show me.” 

 

“Alright, I could practice some parts of our National routine for you, but then I’m going to have to swear you to secrecy,” Sansa told him and he tilted his head with amusement. 

 

“Why? Think I’m going to be able to tell someone what the hell you’re doing anyways?” he pointed out and Sansa shrugged. 

 

“You might.” 

 

“Pretty sure no one will believe me if I say that Sansa Stark showed me her Nationals routine,” he said, eyes dark in a way that made Sansa’s gut clench with want. She’d forgotten what it was like, wanting someone. Thinking about them constantly. Wishing to feel them. She took a deep breath and flashed him what she hoped was an offhand smile. 

 

“Fair enough. Let me know if I’m boring you?” She waited until he nodded before she took her space in the middle of the room. 

 

They’d learned the majority of the choreography for their National’s routines, but Sansa had parts of it that she wanted to refine. The first was one of the turning sections near the end of the song; Mel had again decided that she wanted to highlight Sansa’s jumping abilities, so the turns ended with a dramatic pose that immediately transitioned to Sansa’s leap. It was awkward, and she hadn’t quite mastered how she was going to keep herself in sync with the other girls and not fall on her ass. 

 

_Five, six, seven, eight,_ she counted silently, stepping into the turns. Each turn was sharp and fast, and after the first two they began to shift their spot to move in a circle, opening to each side wall on every half beat. It wasn’t challenging to Sansa anymore—she’d mastered these turns before she finished high school. The set ended with a triple, but Sansa wanted to practice linking it with the leap.

 

She ended the triple with her feet wide and her arms high, bringing them down slowly, annoyed that she had to think of her next move. Usually dancing came so easily, so naturally to her that she could move without thinking. Her body knew what to do before her mind could send signals, and she went with it. She didn’t have to concentrate on what came next, she just let herself get lost. 

 

“How do you do that?” Sandor’s voice brought her out of her thoughts and she smiled at the awe in his voice. It warmed her to her toes that he was impressed by something she could do. 

 

“It’s easy, once you’re trained for nearly two decades of your life,” Sansa said dryly and he gave her a look. “What? It’s like learning to skate. You think you’d be able to teach me how to skate like you do?” 

 

“I don’t need to teach you to skate, you already know,” Sandor remarked. “You skate better than half my guys.” 

 

“Well, that’s cause I had to learn or my brothers would put my ass on the ice,” she laughed. “Then came Arya and she was more than willing to play their games so I mostly got left alone. But still. It takes a lot practice, that’s how I got good.” 

 

“Good,” he chuckled and shook his head, but that was all he had to say on the matter and he fell quiet again. Sansa went back to her dance, completing her turns then turning to nail the steps into the jump.

 

“Don’t hesitate,” she muttered to herself, thinking of her coaches. She wanted to have the part perfect for the first time Mel saw it; if another dancer got the leap instead, Sansa knew she’d be furious with herself. 

 

She stepped into her turns and let the music take the rest away.

Sansa’s mother always joked that Sansa’s heart would beat in an eight count. She couldn’t shake that perhaps her mother’s words had more truth in them than she knew; Sansa spent so much time counting music that she’d do it subconsciously when she wasn’t dancing. It was easier, simpler. The rhythm came to her naturally. Count to eight, start again. Count the moments between them. Exist there. Dance there.

The move was half side leap, half side jump. Sansa loved classical ballet and she loved jazz, but this was more lyrical, more romantic. This was her favorite style, the one she could perform best. This was emotion come to life, and when she sprung into the air, her legs nearly 45 degrees, she wrapped her arms around herself and flew. For the space of a heartbeat, she was airborne. A little bird.

Then gravity reminded her that she was still just Sansa and brought her back down. She landed and went immediately into the next steps, ones that would take her away from the middle of the floor and back to where she’d help lift Missy, but she didn’t need to practice that. She turned, brushing an errant strand of hair off her forehead, looking at Sandor. She couldn’t help but flush when she saw his slack jaw and the astonished look in his eyes.

“Well?” She was a little breathless from dancing and from him and from everything that felt like was quivering on the edge with them.

“You are a goddamn force of nature,” he breathed and Sansa’s chest constricted tightly. Before she could say another word, her phone chimed, her alarm to remind her that she had places to go and things to do. Things that weren’t dancing in a studio with Sandor. She sighed, running a hand up her neck and giving him a sad smile.

“I have to go,” she said simply, unable to bring herself to say anything more. If she did, she was going to do something stupid. Like skip everything in her overstuffed planner and spend the day locked away in here with him.

“Me too,” he replied reluctantly, standing. Sansa was unsure what to do, so she stayed where she was in the center of the room. Sandor held himself away from her, and Sansa took a deep breath.

“Are you, uh, going to be here for homecoming?” she blurted out stupidly and he glanced at her, a little smile lingering.

“Yeah, little bird. Need to shake hands and kiss asses,” he said and Sansa laughed.

“Yeah, same, but I gotta shake my ass and kiss some hands,” she joked and he gave her an unreadable expression before he chuckled, nodding.

“I’ll see you around?” The way he asked it seemed half like teasing, half like pleading and Sansa nodded, just a moment too quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” she promised, without meaning for it to be so.

“Have a good day,” he nodded and headed for the door.

“Thanks for the coffee!” Sansa yelled and he waved a hand, gone a moment later. Sansa grinned to herself then spun around, shimmying over to her bag, unable to contain her delight.

The coffee and Sandor put her in a good mood as she went through her day. Not even class, obligatory meet-and-greets with the football players and cheerleaders, or her family descending upon her could dull her happiness. It was like Sandor had replaced her heart with a warm, glowing orb that was tied to his. When she walked into the restaurant that evening, still in her game day uniform, she smiled brightly at her parents, Robb and Talisa, and her younger siblings.

“You look a little out of place,” Robb taunted as Ned and Catelyn both rose to kiss her cheek. The steakhouse was a tradition of old for their dad, and most of the other diners were dressed nicely. Sansa’s maroon and gold miniskirt set her slightly at odds.

“Sorry, there was no time to change,” Sansa explained, more to her mother than anyone, sliding into her seat between Talisa and Rickon. “I was lucky to get away at all, since they were talking about us staying there for photos till—”

“We get it, you’re very important,” Arya cut her off loudly, opening her menu and disappearing behind it. “Can we order yet or not, Jesus.”

“Well,” taken aback, Sansa reached down for her own menu even though she already knew what she was going to order. Talisa’s hand found Sansa’s knee and squeezed slightly. Unshed tears stung her eyes, but she determinedly repressed them. Arya was just being Arya. Nothing more or less. It was homecoming week. They were all tired and cranky.

The conversation turned to Bran’s upcoming surgery. Catelyn was adamant that this was going to be the miraculous breakthrough they’d been waiting for, the one that would finally change everything for him. Bran bore their mother’s chatter with grace, nodding along when prompted, but Sansa couldn’t help but feel that if it were up to him, he would rather simply be allowed to be.

By the time their food arrived, Catelyn was fretting over Talisa’s choice to have a baked potato instead of asparagus. Sansa bumped Talisa’s leg with her knee while Robb caved and sided with their mother. Talisa kept a smile plastered across her face, but dug into the potato nonetheless. Sansa hid a smile by taking a long sip from her water.

“Sansa,” Rickon muttered on her left. Sansa glanced at him, ignoring the fact that Catelyn was now outlining their day tomorrow, “Sandor’s gonna be there tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sansa nearly dropped her fork. She’d almost forgotten the fact that Sandor and Rickon had gotten along quite well. It stood to reason that if they saw each other over the point of the weekend, they’d at least acknowledge the other. Sansa wasn’t sure what her family, especially her mother, would have to say if Rickon spilled that he’d spent the day with the two of them.

“Sweet,” Rickon declared before going back to shoveling his baked beans into his mouth as fast as he humanly could. Sansa, unsure what else to do, reached for a piece of cornbread, almost in a daze.

“Sansa,” her mother said primly and Sansa blinked, turning to her. Catelyn looked pointedly at her hand and Sansa followed her gaze, retracting her hand automatically.

“Oh, c’mon, Cat—let the girl have some bread,” Ned grumbled, taking a long drink of his beer.

“She performs tomorrow,” Catelyn muttered and Sansa waved a hand, forcing a smile onto her face.

“Not hungry anyways,” she promised, folding her napkin neatly.

“Have the cornbread if you want it,” Ned urged and Sansa gave him a smile.

“Really dad, I’m not hungry.”

“You better stay hydrated tomorrow,” Robb said wisely, rubbing Talisa’s arm like he didn’t notice that a wooden plank would have been less stiff than his wife. “It’s a long day.”

“Promise I’ll be careful,” she swore and he grinned, telling them all the story of how he’d gotten dehydrated during Spring Jam and had nearly died. Sansa tuned him out when her phone vibrated. She glanced down carefully, trying not to alert her mother. Texting at the dinner table was one of Catelyn’s biggest pet peeves.

**How’s it going?**

_At dinner with my fam. It’s going swimmingly…. Not._

**What’d Rickon destroy?**

_Besides a 12-pound steak? Nothing. Arya’s sulking, Robb’s going to get murdered by his wife, and my mom is somehow being even more controlling than usual. I feel like things are only going to go downhill from here._

**Only two days left, right?**

_My official duties end Sunday at 3 pm._

**Not counting down the hours or anything?**

_Nah just the seconds._

“Alright, I should get back,” Sansa said, once it was just Arya and Rickon fighting over the last bites of the molten chocolate cake and ice cream. “Someone has to make sure Marg’s outfit is ready and we all know it won’t be her.”

“I’ll walk you out,” her father offered, rising. A little surprised, Sansa could only nod.

“See you tomorrow,” Robb said and Sansa bent to hug Talisa.

“Don’t kill him,” she whispered in her sister-in-law’s ear. “Then you’d have to change all the dirty diapers.”

“It may be worth it,” Talisa gave Sansa the first genuine smile of the night as she straightened up.

“Worth what?” Robb asked, but both ignored him.

“See you tomorrow.” Sansa waved goodbye to her mother and siblings. Ned tucked her under one large arm, and guided her towards the exit.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he said quietly, once they’d left the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

“Thanks for feeding me,” Sansa smiled and Ned shook his head, exhaling hard.

“Sansa, your mother, she means well, you know.”

“Oh, I do,” Sansa said quickly. “Dad, I really do, I promise. She’s just being mom. It’s just her nature. I know.”

“Sometimes with you kids, I fear….” Ned trailed off, gazing off into the street. Sansa watched the cars go by before reaching up to hug him.

“Dad, I know,” she whispered and she meant it. Catelyn had been raised to make sure appearances were everything, part of the old city money. Sansa could remember when she was younger, attending church with her grandfather. Catelyn had sent her off with shined shoes and a perfect hair bow. When she’d sat there in the big, old cathedral, she’d pretended to be one of the angels. Afterwards, everyone had complimented how well behaved she was, and she’d wondered if that was why her mother hadn’t sent Arya with.

“You’re a good girl, Sansa,” Ned gave her a tight squeeze then let go. Sansa stepped back, a wry smile on her face. “She knows that too.”

“Thanks dad,” Sansa smoothed out her skirt, feeling like she was dead on her feet. “I should get back, I need some sleep.”

“Of course. See you tomorrow,” Ned promised, kissing her head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied before he went back inside. She went for her jeep, climbing inside and pausing, looking up at the angel charm her mother had given her when she turned 16, so that angels could always keep her safe when driving. Sansa reached out and gave it a brief touch before reversing and heading home.

 

* * *

 

Saturday morning came all too early. Sansa was still yawning, half asleep, while Jeyne curled her hair and Margaery applied makeup. They’d beaten the sun easily, and Sansa drank her coffee as she assembled snacks and lunches, idly wishing it was coffee with Sandor. As if he could hear her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a text from him.

**Happy Homecoming little bird.**

_Thanks! You up because you have to do hair and makeup too?_

**Yes exactly**

_You’d kill with a bold lip and a blowout!_

**I don’t know what those things are nor do I want to. I’ll leave the pretty to you.**

“Today’s going to be a good day,” Sansa declared, as Jeyne walked through the living room, nearly catatonic.

“Need my balloons,” Jeyne muttered, by way of response. “Gotta fill ‘um before the party.”

Sansa had to admit that, even if she moaned and complained about homecoming, it was one of the most fun weekends on campus. By the time the sun was up and they’d met up with the rest of the girls, she was full of pep and spirit. She greeted fans, walked in the parade, cooed over little Gopher babies, allowed smelly pre-teen boys to take pictures with her and never once complained. She made sure the girls ate and drank water, she cheerfully dealt with the freshman girls and their questions, only nodding when Mel demanded that today’s performances be better than any they’d done before.

The day was beautiful, she had to admit. It was the perfect fall day, where the sun warmed everything it touched, but a breeze blew through enough so that no one felt too hot. When Sansa waved up to her family, she wasn’t surprised that Rickon was nowhere to be found, or that Talisa had chosen to seat herself far away from Catelyn. She hadn’t expected to see Sandor with her family, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit let down when he wasn’t there.

While the team racked up points, Sansa cheered with a smile on her face. Their halftime performance was to a medley of pop songs that flew over the heads of anyone over thirty in the audience but had the student section cheering. Sansa was sure Arya and Rickon were somewhere in there, crowded amongst the many students, but she didn’t spot them. She just tried to soak it all in, reminding herself she was only ever going to get one more homecoming as an athlete, shaking off the melancholy that came with that thought.

Judging by the size of Mel’s smile as the last seconds of the game ticked down, Sansa felt confident that they’d accomplished her decree of the best performance. She was thankful; the last she needed after this week was a harsh practice and Mel’s wrath. She was happy that they’d won, happy that the day was beautiful, just plain happy. She walked with Jeyne towards her family’s tailgate, delighting in the fact that they had a few/several hours before they were needed again.

“Oh, shit, there he is,” Jeyne hissed, grabbing Sansa’s arm.

“Who?” Sansa looked around in confusion at the mass of people.

“Beric,” Jeyne breathed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“The wrestler?” Sansa stretched up, finding the cluster of boys. Beric held court in the middle, shot-gunning a beer amid cheering. “Really? You have a crush on him?”

“Don’t mock,” Jeyne warned her. “I’m trying to figure out how to introduce myself.”

“Watch this,” Sansa smirked and then whistled sharply. One broke off and walked towards them, the younger wrestler named Tom that Sansa had met last year. Sansa grinned at him, while Jeyne threatened death and dismemberment to Sansa quietly.

“Hey Stark,” he called out once he was within earshot. If he noticed that fact that Jeyne seemed to be quietly dying behind Sansa, he didn’t let it show.

“Hey Tom, what’s up?” Sansa asked, as he weaved between the cars and tents to get to them.

“Not much,” he glanced over his shoulder, “Beric’s just bet Thoros that he can’t shotgun more than him.”

“Ah, well, good luck to Beric,” Sansa declared, nodding, before turning to tug Jeyne out in front of her. “Hey, Tom, this is my roommate Jeyne.”

“Yeah, you dance too, don’t you?” Tom reached out and shook Jeyne’s hand.

“Yeah,” Jeyne found her voice after a moment, “I dance with Sansa.”

“I’ve got to hang out with family for a little bit, would you mind if Jeyne came and drank with you?” Sansa requested and Jeyne gave her a look of pure panic.

“Yeah?” Tom glanced at Jeyne and she hastily tried to give him a bright, confident smile. “Sure, the more the merrier.”

“Great,” Sansa kissed Jeyne’s cheek then gave her a little push towards the party. “See you later then!”

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Jeyne promised as Sansa walked backwards, grinning.

“Love you,” she sang as she turned to head towards her tailgate. She bobbed and weaved between people and cars alike, humming to herself. Today was shaping up to be the best day of the year and she could only think of one thing to make it better. She was just imagining what it would be like to perform directly in front of Sandor when she nearly crashed into someone that emerged from between two large trailers.

“Sansa Stark.” Petyr Baelish’s face made her whole body go cold. “Look at you, you’re radiant.”

“Baelish,” she said carefully, trying to take a step back and finding that a car blocked it.

“Please,” he extended a hand, “Petyr.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry but I’d better get to my family,” Sansa apologized. “They’re waiting for me and I don’t want to hold them up or anything, so I should, you know, go.”

“What a coincidence,” he proclaimed with a glint in his eyes that made Sansa think it was nothing of the sort. “I was going there as well. I could walk with you.”

“I….” Sansa had no good option. Denying him would be rude, and she knew if she did, her mother would have words for her. But she had no desire to wind through the crowd with him at her side. She thought of the first night she’d met Sandor, and how easy it had been to follow him out of that party. Then she looked back at Baelish, with his sly little smile and caved.

“Allow me,” he said as he offered her his arm. Sansa unwillingly took it, trying to maintain as much distance between them as possible. With the crush of people around them, it wasn’t easy. She attempted to hurry, but it was slow going. Baelish, next to her, was talking about something that she was sure was very important, but she ignored him, straining to see how much longer until her parents’ site. Petyr’s hand pressed into her lower back, just a bit too low for her comfort, when they finally emerged at her family’s tailgate.

“SANSAAAAAAAA!” Rickon’s shout startled her, but not nearly as much as the sight of Sandor standing across from him. It was just like it had been weeks ago, except this time Sandor held a stick that was his proper height and he was furious. Properly angry, in a way that Sansa only knew from the videos of him fighting. Teeth bared, eyes darkened and narrowed. He strode toward them, as Sansa tried to understand what the hell was going on.

“Baelish,” Sandor’s voice was low, practically a growl, and then he reached out to Sansa, one large hand extended towards her. She didn’t think about what Rickon would say to her family, or worse, what Petyr would. She didn’t think about the warm August night at a party. She didn’t think about all the moments since then. She simply took his hand and let him pull her away from Petyr.

“Sansa Sansa Sansa, did you see that play in the third, did you see them—” Rickon was chattering in her ear, but Sansa could only look on in silent astonishment as Sandor put himself between her and Petyr, the broad line of his shoulders radiating tension.

“What are you doing here?” Sandor’s voice was blunt, harsh. It was rage, barely controlled. Sansa’s fingers were trembling, but she was frozen.

“The same could be asked of you, Coach Clegane,” Petyr replied, using Sandor’s title like it was a slur. “I wasn’t aware you knew the Stark family.”

“Hockey,” Sandor stated simply. Sansa wanted to grin in spite of it all; there was nothing that summed up Minnesota better than the simple fact that one sport bonded them together. 

 

“Ah, well,” Petyr’s lips curled in an unpleasant smile, “I know the young Rickon is so interested in following in his siblings’ footsteps and playing for the U. It’s always good to have a board member to back him—”

“Coach’s opinion is a bit more important.” Sandor crossed his arms and Sansa suddenly remembered Rickon was there. She turned to him, grabbing his shoulders.

“When did Sandor get here?” she asked him lowly, urgently. Rickon looked at her, bemused, then shrugged.

“I dunno. We were playing hockey.”

“Go get mom,” Sansa ordered as she turned him before pushing him away. For a second it seemed as though he was going to protest, but then he did as told. Sansa turned back to Sandor and Petyr, who’d both fallen into silence, glaring at the other. Sansa reached for Sandor’s elbow, and when she touched him, he seemed to soften slightly, turning to look down at her.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle, quiet. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Hi you.” Sansa kept her hand on him when she turned to Petyr with a bright smile. “My mom is probably with dad in the tent. Are you going to say hi?”

“I should, yes,” Petyr replied, and as he walked past, Sandor made sure that Sansa was always behind him. Once the thin man disappeared between the tents, Sandor turned and looked down at her. The look in his eyes was so intense, so filled with concern and worry and something protective that all Sansa could do was repeat, breathlessly,

“Hi.”

“You alright, little bird?” His hand came to the tattoo on her face once again, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

“And you say you’re not my knight in shining armor,” Sansa teased, but Sandor’s face darkened and his hand dropped.

“Did he touch you?” he asked lowly.

“No,” Sansa said hastily. “No, he just came out of nowhere and walked me back. Creepy, but—wait, where the hell did you come from?”

“I was at the game,” Sandor said like it should’ve been obvious.

“With my family?” Sansa’s brow furrowed in confusion. She knew she would’ve noticed him sitting there, despite all the chaos otherwise.

“Nah, with some buddies,” Sandor explained and Sansa wondered where he’d been. “I thought you, uh, noticed me. Seemed like you did.”

“Which side?” she asked and he gave her a rather sheepish smile.

“Main. Upper left corner.”

“No, I had no idea,” Sansa admitted. “If I had, I would’ve waved or something.”

“Ah, well, you smiled,” he rubbed the back of his head and Sansa bit her lip, grinning. “Then I came here after, wanted to say hello.”

“Hello,” she said softly and he looked down at her with a smile that nearly broke her heart. Honest. True. There was nothing threatening like there had been in Petyr’s. For a second, he raised his hand like he was going to reach out to her, but then Talisa appeared, a hand pressed to her lower back and an irritated look on her face.

“Sansa,” she called and Sansa turned.

“Hi, Tali.”

“Did the creepy man walk you here?” Talisa’s deep brown eyes flickered up to Sandor, pausing for a long moment, before she turned back to Sansa.

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal,” Sansa tried to brush it off. “He didn’t try anything, honestly.”

“That is not the point,” Talisa chided her. “What matters is that he makes you feel unsafe.”

“So, I what, tell him no, and have mom tell me I’m being rude?” Sansa shot back and both Talisa and Sandor grimaced. “He never does anything beyond what’s proper, he just gives me a bad vibe. That doesn’t matter though, not when he has boatloads of money and power. So instead, I should sit here and tolerate it, just barely?”

“All the rules you play by,” Talisa shook her head. “Makes me mad.”

“Me too, but we just deal with it,” Sansa declared. “Now I better go say hi to the family or they’ll think Sandor kidnapped me.”

“I might,” he grumbled so quietly she nearly missed it. She grinned and followed Talisa. When she walked into her family’s tailgate party, there were so many people she had to shimmy and squeeze between bodies to even make her way to her father. He was talking in his loud booming voice to several of his former football teammates, all of them with beers in their hands.

“Sansa!” he shouted, when she finally managed to get to him. “My daughter!”

“Hi dad,” she laughed when he pulled her to his side.

“You performed so well today,” he told her, as his buddies nodded their agreement. Sansa knew who half of them were from their visits growing up so she gave them all smiles.

“Thanks, dad. Are there any leftovers? I’m starving.”

“That way,” he said as he pointed through the crowd. Sansa kissed his cheek and plunged back into the mass of bodies. It made sense now, why no one questioned that Sandor was here. There were so many people—alumni, Robb’s friends, her dad’s business people, her mom’s book club—that he hardly stuck out. She was just getting a plate when Rickon burst between two drunk men, panting.

“I can’t get to mom,” he said.

“That’s fine.” Sansa put some fresh fruit on her plate. “Where’d Sandor go?”

“He and I are gonna go pass again.” Rickon was bouncing in excitement and Sansa looked at him fondly. “He says you can come watch.”

“Oh, can I?” She laughed. “Alright, let me get something to drink then I’ll be there.”

“Okay!” He raced away again. Sansa’s own journey took a lot longer; she had to dodge Robb, who looked like he was holding a beer bong, and when she glimpsed her mother, she hastily turned the other direction. But eventually she was free of the crowd, back out in the spaces between cars with Rickon and Sandor.

She’d stolen a lawn chair during her trek and set it down, sitting cross legged so that she could watch. Rickon was further from her with his stick and his wild hair. Sandor would send the ball rolling towards him and Rickon would run to catch the pass, whooping when he did and yelling when he didn’t. Sandor stood only a few feet from her, and every time he made Rickon run, he’d turn and grin at her. Sansa ate her snack, content.

She didn’t realize that Talisa was behind her until Sandor jogged off to help Rickon find the ball after it rolled into a gutter. When she spoke, Sansa nearly shot out of her seat.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Holy shit!” Sansa glared at her, heart racing. “When did you get here?”

“When Robb took a shot of Fireball,” Talisa answered, gaze still fixed on Sandor. He was crouched down and all Sansa could see of Rickon were his feet, wiggling in the air. “It’s him. He’s the one.”

“One what?” Sansa played for time, shifting uncomfortably.

“The one you were texting. The one you like so much, the not boy but a man,” Talisa stated and Sansa watched as Sandor reached down and suddenly Rickon was over his shoulder, the street ball clutched in his fingers, yelling.

“Yeah,” Sansa answered simply. No use denying it. No use fighting it. No use pretending it was anything else.

“Good,” Talisa turned to her, smirking, “I like him.”

“Do you, now?” Sansa raised an eyebrow and Talisa nodded as Sandor grappled with Rickon.

“He’s got a good heart.”

“I know,” Sansa said quietly, a slight smile spreading across her face.

She didn’t want to go but the sun sank lower. There was still so much to be done, including presentations and meetings, homework and papers, team things, sorority things, on and on it went. But as Sansa sat there, talking with Talisa and watching Sandor and Rickon play, she could’t bring herself to think of anything that might be more important than this. She took in the moment, and thought it had been the most perfect homecoming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to like bitch or anything but the past couple weeks have been rough af and basically what gets me through the days is watching to all the boys i've loved before and interacting with you folks. so here's to hoping october brings us all better luck, and maybe some kisses, hint, hint, hint....


	9. Lady's Slippers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so if you want to ignore this slightly rambling authors note plz skip to the last paragraph no judgements
> 
> but this chapter is really special to me because this is what my future life partner and i did on one of our first dates and this weekend we're returning to mill city to take engagement pictures and this just feels like a lovely full circle kind of moment and after a bit of a rough patch here in september, things are looking brighter (it's colder out, my car is being fixed, hockey is back, etc) so thank you all for sticking with me on this. it means the absolute world. 
> 
> in short i am thankful to share this all with you and i hope you enjoy this chapter of LOVE also lady slippers are our state flower and as a child i believed fairies slept in them so there's your magic for the day ENJOY

“What’s everyone doing for bye week?” Missy asked, as they stretched. Sansa rolled into her splits, yawning. She was still exhausted from homecoming, but it was getting better. She was excited for the prospect for a whole weekend off. Mel had even taken pity on them and shifted workouts and practices so that they didn’t have to worry about them until Monday once again.

“Sleeping,” Ros answered.

“Going home,” Myrcella admitted, while Mya scoffed,

“Studying, what else?”

“I’m going to go the Post Malone concert,” Margaery announced, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And I have back stage passes.”

“Imagine that,” Shae remarked dryly. Margaery made a face at her.

“Sansa?” Ygritte turned to look at her. “What are you doing?”

“No clue,” Sansa arched her back, bringing her back foot up to touch her head just to make sure she still could, before letting it fall. “Homework probably.”

“Boring,” Jeyne pretended to yawn. “I’m going to go Duluth.”

“What the fuck is in Duluth?” Lyanna demanded, as they all turned to look at her in bewilderment.

“One of Beric’s friends plays football there,” Jeyne said proudly. “It might be our bye week, but it’s not UMD’s.”

“You are a nut,” Arianne shook her head. “How long have you been talking to Beric? And you’re already running off to Duluth with this guy?”

“I’ll know him better after this weekend,” Jeyne said proudly and Sansa couldn’t fault that logic, so she just chuckled.

“You’re something else,” Alayaya laughed.

“Alright, I’m done,” Dany declared, grabbing her sweatshirt. “Drogo and I are going to spend the entire weekend having wild animal sex, so I will be under strict ‘do not disturb’ protocol.”

“Not needed,” Myranda shook her head. “We didn’t need to know that.”

“Bye!” Dany waved, striding out.

“And with that lovely image for you all, I’m going as well,” Mya declared and they all began to leave the studio, in twos and threes. Sansa lingered, enjoying the moment. When she finally got up, she looped her arm with Jeyne’s.

“And just when are you leaving?” She demanded of her. “How are you getting to Duluth?”

“I’m hitching a ride with Beric tonight,” Jeyne waved a hand. “It’s going to be fine. You worry like a mom, you know that?”

“Someone has to.” Sansa patted her head.

By the time she got out of the shower and made herself some tea, Margaery and Jeyne were both on their way out. She stood in the kitchen, watching them in amusement. Margaery was staying with some cousin closer to the concert, but she was fussing over which skin tight, see through bodysuit she was going to wear.

“Red is always sexy,” Sansa gave her input, as Margaery dithered.

“Black makes you skinnier!” Jeyne called, as she dug through the couch, coming up triumphantly with a charger.

“Are you implying I need to lose weight?” Margaery demanded, infuriated and Sansa rolled her eyes.

“If either of you die this weekend, just remember that I relinquished all control over this situation,” she said loudly and both girls ignored her. “But also, I love you and please be safe.”

“Mom,” Jeyne accused and Sansa kissed her cheek.

“Whatever. Be safe.”

When both girls had left, Sansa collapsed on the couch, wrapping a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders and putting some drama on the tv so she could study. She checked for phone one last time, smiling when she saw the message awaiting her from Sandor.

**Can’t wait for tomorrow.**

_Me either. What time should I come over?_

**Whenever you want.**

_6 am._

**Sure. I’ll be awake anyways.**

_Well it won’t be 6. I need to study and I’m still exhausted from homecoming week. Closer to 8 ok?_

**Perfect. See you then.**

_You too._

She cracked open her book, grinning despite the work ahead of her.

The morning dawned gorgeous. Sansa liked sleeping with her window open, and when her alarm went off, it was just the right temperature to snuggle deeper into the blankets with a smile. She stretched slowly, languidly, until her impatience to see Sandor overcame her. She slid out of bed and went to get ready, sitting on the bathroom counter with her feet in the sink to do her makeup.

She’d chosen her outfit carefully; she wanted something trendy that wasn’t going to make her seem too young, but at the same time had just the right amount of sexiness. She and Sandor had hung out enough times now that she’d gotten over her initial trepidation. Now she just wanted him to go ahead and kiss her already. She had on jeans with thigh high boots, a tight tank top that tucked into her pants, and a loose, caramel colored knit cardigan.

She picked her jewelry carefully, choosing rose gold rings and a watch. Her lips twitched up at Arya’s remark that rose gold was the precious metal of basic white girls, but Sansa had long ago accepted that anything she liked Arya would instantly rebel against. That was her nature. Sansa just kept getting ready, grabbing a purse to shove all her stuff in before walking out the door.

She texted Sandor when she was parking, and he buzzed her in once she reached the door. She rode the elevator up, unable to keep herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly in excitement. She couldn’t wait to see Sandor. She couldn’t wait for a morning, just the two of them. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen. She knocked on his door, and heard his shout even through the wood.

“It’s open!”

“Morning,” she let herself in and Sandor emerged from his bedroom. The second he saw her, his jaw went slack, one hand forgotten where it’d been doing his belt. Sansa grinned, a little self-conscious.

“You look…. Wow,” he trailed off, blinking.

“Yeah, you too,” Sansa commented, gesturing to his outfit. It was just jeans and a button up with a leather jacket thrown over the top, but Sansa was over boys that thought that pastel shorts and a polo with dock shoes were the height of fashion. She was surprised at how sexy he was, especially given the fact that half of his long hair was pulled back into a messy half bun. “I love your hair like that.”

“This?” He seemed perplexed, pointing up to it in astonishment. Sansa nodded, grinning and he blinked. “Huh, I just…. I just threw it up when I was trying to figure out what to wear.”

“Well it’s very handsome,” Sansa offered and for a second it looked like he was going to question her before he suddenly smiled and shook his head.

“Ready?” He asked, looking out the window at the beautiful fall day.

“Yes please,” Sansa agreed happily and he grabbed his wallet from beside the door, opening it for her. When they’d stepped through, Sandor reached down and took her hand. Sansa hummed happily, swaying slightly as the doors to the elevator shut on them.

The Mill City Farmer’s Market was in full swing when they arrived. Sansa smiled as the familiar sights and sounds washed over her; it smelled like spices and bread. She thought of mornings with her mom, slow and easy, as Catelyn went from stall to stall and got groceries. Sansa was always on her best behavior, so that at the end of the day she’d get some trinket or treat as a reward. She smiled, squeezing Sandor’s hand.

“Where to first?” He looked around and Sansa glanced up at him.

“Have you never been here before?” She questioned, seeing the way his gaze traveled over everything.

“Err, no,” he admitted and Sansa tutted.

“You live a block away.”

“Saturday’s are for sleeping,” he argued and Sansa shook her head.

“This way,” she said firmly, leading him towards the little stand that always made the best coffee. He got a standard dark roast while Sansa allowed the young man working to talk her into a more exotic blend. The man was flirty, but Sandor kept his hand on the small of her back and Sansa couldn’t stop herself from pressing back against him.

After they got their coffee, they wandered through the stalls, seeing what was offered. Sandor tried a bit of cured meat, while Sansa laughingly took the offering from a little boy of his grandfather’s cheese. It was slow going, but Sansa had no desire to rush things. By the time they turned to see what the indoor portion offered, Sansa’s arm was twined closer with Sandor’s and she pressed herself into his side, grinning.

“What should we do for lunch?” He asked her, as they paused before a massive stand that sold fresh produce. “Want to make something?”

“How about a stir fry?” She suggested, hefting a cabbage that weighed as much as her head. He grinned and shrugged.

“We can grab things on the way out?”

“Perfect,” Sansa smiled at the woman running the stand then walked with Sandor to the next. It was two sisters selling bread, and Sandor bought a large loaf of roasted garlic bread to go with the cheese Sansa had picked out earlier. They were nearly ready to turn and loop back when Sansa gasped, looking at the display of hand cut jewelry. The piece that had caught her eye was a thin, delicate outline of Minnesota.

“Pretty,” Sandor remarked as she gently touched the chain.

“So pretty,” she agreed, before straightening up.

“Going to get it?” Sandor asked her and Sansa waved a hand.

“No, I have too much jewelry as is,” she smiled. “Or at least that’s what my brothers are always telling me.”   

“Mhmm,” Sandor made a noncommittal noise and then they continued their journey through the market. Once they emerged back into the sun, Sansa led him to the large stone slabs that faced the river, another tradition of her and her mothers’. The stones were warmed by the sun, and people around them lounged, chatting, playing music, eating, or playing on their phones. Sansa took their bread and broke it, putting a bit of cheese on it and offering it to Sandor.

“This is my favorite thing,” she told him, as a man strummed a guitar idly.

“What is?” Sandor asked, taking a bite of the bread and nodding in approval.

“This,” Sansa gestured broadly to the overall atmosphere. “The fact that there’s nothing I have to do today or be somewhere. It’s relaxed. It’s nice out, you’re here, there’s delicious food and good coffee, it’s just a slow Saturday morning.”

“It’s nice,” Sandor admitted, watching as a yoga class was led in the grassy area across from them. Sansa hummed in agreement, taking another bite of the bread and cheese. They lapsed into silence, until the man beside them started playing an upbeat salsa sound. Sansa laughed slightly when a woman stood and pulled her male partner up. They started dancing, and Sansa turned to Sandor with a pleading look.

“Please?”

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “No way in hell.”

“Why not?” Sansa protested, as a grandmother and her young grandson joined, both laughing with joy as they waved their hands and shook their hips.

“I don’t dance, especially not in public,” Sandor warned her, even as she scrambled to get her feet under her.

“I can teach you,” she offered and his look was sharp.

“In front of everyone?”

“Please,” Sansa raised an eyebrow as another couple started to dance. Only the original couple was doing anything close to a dance resembling the salsa, but it seemed that people were enjoying it nonetheless. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“They’ll laugh,” he replied flatly and Sansa looked around at the small crowd gathered.

“Then I will distract them all with high kicks,” she stated, half joking, half not. “C’mon, it’s not scary, I promise. Can’t even any worse than losing a fight, right?”

“Not the best comparison,” he glared at her, but she managed to tug him to his feet and grinned at him when he rose, brushing off his pants and looking supremely uncomfortable.

“C’mere,” she said softly, putting his hand on her waist. She took up his other hand and looked up. His dark grey eyes were almost pleading, and she about took pity on him and let him sit back down, but then her feet and hips started moving.

She walked him through the most basics of steps, and after a few minutes, the stiffness in his shoulders had all but disappeared. Sansa laughed, throwing her head back and making him spin then dip her. She was sure there were two year olds that could do a better salsa than this, but she didn’t care. She was in Sandor’s arms, and that was heaven enough.

An older man tapped Sandor’s shoulder, a request to cut in, and Sandor let Sansa go with hesitation. Sansa grinned at the man, who seized her hand and spun her. Laughing, she had to pick up her steps to keep up with him. Soon enough everyone was clapping, hooting and cheering when she dipped. The song ended and she and her partner gave a dramatic flourish, to the amusement of everyone watching. Sansa thanked him profusely and he kissed both her cheeks. When the next song began, she excused herself and stepped towards Sandor, a little breathless.

He was watching her intensely and she opened her mouth to apologize, for making him dance, for taking another partner, for whatever it was, but then he stepped towards and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Sansa promptly shut up, uncertain of what he meant to do. He lowered his head and she had no doubts of what he intended, but she couldn’t quite prepare herself for it.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she tilted her head up so that he could more easily reach her lips. Then he pressed them to hers and somehow all the noise around her came to a halt, drifting off so that it was just her and Sandor. The kiss was sweet, chaste, given their audience, but Sansa curled her hand so that her nails pressed, ever so lightly, into his side. She felt his lips, burnt and all, twitch up into a smile.

When he pulled away, they were both grinning. Behind them, a little boy was groaning and covering his eyes, but Sansa could only giggle back. Sandor had a sort of awestruck look on his face, like he wasn’t even sure that he’d kissed her. The only reason Sansa knew it to be true was because her lips tingled, and her whole body was warm. 

 

“Sorry, I,” he started but Sansa giggled and rose ever so slightly off her heels so that she could kiss him again, a little more firmly this time. When she pulled back, a smile was crossing his face, so she hummed and looked around, pretending not to notice how his eyes followed her face. 

 

“Well that sure was fun,” she declared, and when he went to say something, she added, “I haven’t danced the salsa in ages.” 

 

“How many dances do you know, little bird?” He chuckled and Sansa pretended to think hard as they went to sit back down near their bread and cheese. 

 

“Let’s see, basically every ballroom style, so tango, salsa, waltz, and most kinds of classical ballet styles, and modern and contemporary jazz, and—”

 

“Alright, I get it,” he half laughed, half growled. “You’re more talented than everyone here. Cut the bragging then.” 

 

“I’m not bragging!” She protested, tearing off some bread and cheese so that she could pop both into her mouth. “I’m just well rounded.” 

 

“Well rounded?” He turned to her and Sansa licked her fingers, ignoring that implications of his words. “You’re something.” 

 

“Maybe,” Sansa grinned. “But you’re learning to dance too, so that makes you something else.”

 

“Am I?” The way he gazed at her, hot and intense, made Sansa want to shiver. She tried her best to keep a level voice as she nodded and said,

 

“I can see it now. You’ll be the star of the ball, and you’ll amaze everyone with your ability to grab the nearest partner and perform the Foxtrot.”

 

“You’ve got your head in the clouds,” he chuckled, as he took some bread and cheese of his own. Sansa smiled and leaned her back against him, warm from the sun and the contact with him. 

 

“I like to think so,” she said softly. 

 

The gathering of ingredients for their stir-fry when they were ready to leave turned out to be nearly more fun than the rest of the date entirely. Sansa delighted in playfully bickering with Sandor over the vegetables to use, and which were best. Sandor rolled his eyes, huffing, but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes gave away just how much he was enjoying himself. They nearly make it out of the market before Sandor remembered that he wanted to grab some coffee for the upcoming week, and darted back. 

 

When he returned, it was with coffee and a massive bouquet of flowers for her. Sansa gasped, reaching for the sunflowers, roses, and mums before she can help herself. She pulled back, slightly, in case for some reason they weren’t for her, but Sandor laughed and handed them over, kissing her head when she went to smell them. 

 

“Like them?” He asked, even though Sansa knew he had to know the answer. 

 

“Love them,” she replied firmly, and Sandor took their bounty from her so she could carry the flowers. “This is how it was with my mom, actually. We usually got all our food, and then on the way out she would get flowers, so that there would be a bright center for the kitchen table. It was her favorite part.”

 

“They’ll look better on your table than mine,” Sandor said gruffly, and Sansa smiled to think that every day she would see something to remind her of him and this perfect morning. 

 

“Thank you,” she said softly, and slipped her hand into his.

 

When they got back to the apartment, Sansa instructed Sandor to get the vegetables ready while she stuck the flowers in a makeshift vase she fashioned out of an empty pre-workout jar. Sandor rolled his eyes at her work but went along with the orders, slicing and dicing things accordingly before tossing them all into the pan together. Sansa turned music on while they cooked, and tried to teach him how to dance in the kitchen, laughing and kissing him in equal measure simply because she could. He heaped the vegetables onto her plate with an amused look.

"Now will you stop trying to cha-cha and eat?" He requested and Sansa did a few more steps before she reached for the plate.

"Later we can do the mambo," she teased and his eyes were hungry for something other than what they'd cooked.

"Too early for wine then?" He asked, when Sansa grabbed water and headed for the balcony.

"I enforce a strict 'no drinking' until I've had three square meals," Sansa insisted, sitting down and stretching her legs out. She'd shed the cardigan when they started cooking, and now that the sun was out, she didn't need it again. The glorious Indian summer had faded last week, but the sun still remained warm and gentle. "God, it's been so nice out. This is why I love fall."

"It's a good season," Sandor agreed, sitting across from her and using his fork to spear several pieces of broccoli.

"But let me guess, you prefer winter?" Sansa raised an eyebrow.

"It's hockey season," Sandor replied, by way of explanation. "I don't know a single hockey player who doesn't wait for winter."

"Are you excited for the upcoming season?" Sansa asked him and Sandor shrugged, chewing.

"It's a new season," he declared after swallowing and Sansa rolled her eyes.

"I mean, obviously. But do you like your team? Do you think it'll be a good year? Do you have the right chemistry?" She prompted and Sandor eyed her for a moment, before asking simply,

"Do you?"

"With dance?" Sansa clarified and he nodded. "I think it's going to be a good year, yes. We have strong freshman, and all our returning girls are good leaders. Mel has really settled in as our coach, and I don't think we'll have much drama this year. Hopefully less drama," she amended when he snorted.

"Speaking of drama, what are they all doing this weekend?" He asked and Sansa checked her phone, seeing the texts in the group chat.

"If you want, I can check social media and tell you all about it," she offered and he took another bite, looking at her contemplatively.

"Do you want to?" He pressed and she blinked.

"What?"

"Want to check them on social media?" He clarified and Sansa froze, hand still gripped around her phone.

 

“I, uh,” she stumbled over her words for a second before she got control back. “I’m not on social media very much. Or I try not to be.’

 

“I know,” he said causally, looking out over the skyline of the city. “You have the fewest pictures online of any twenty something girl I know.” 

 

“And you know plenty of them I suppose,” Sansa half teased, half not. 

 

“I know enough to know you’re different,” he remarked and Sansa wasn’t sure what to say to that so she shut up.

 

The rest of the day was spent together, enjoying the sunshine and the simple fact that there was no one who needed them, no practices or workouts to be held, or classes to attend. Sansa had a mountain of homework still to do, but that could absolutely wait. 

 

Sansa sat beside him, letting herself relax, as they chatted about her family. Sandor admitted he would've liked the chance to coach Theon and Sansa talked about how Jon came to live with them. She had been just a toddler, and so most of her life it had seemed like Jon had always been there, tagging along with Robb and her father, then Theon. She told Sandor about the motorcycle accident that had taken Jon's parents from them, about how Jon's sadness never seemed to lift.

"What about you?" Sansa asked him, carefully pretending to be watching the Segway tours below them pass by, off to take pictures at the mill ruins and the historic bridge.

"Am I sad?" He replied, purposely avoiding the question. "I don't think so."

"I meant your siblings," Sansa gave him a stern look. "I know you said they're--"

"Gone," Sandor finished for her flatly. "Dead, both of them."

"I'm sorry," Sansa said softly and was quiet. When Sandor didn't say anything for a long moment, she resolved to let it go and they sat in silence, until he surprised her by speaking, hesitantly.

"We weren't close, any of us. My parents didn't raise us that way. Mom was the one who put me in hockey, but that was more to get me out of the house. My older brother was already in a pretty bad crowd. Most I can remember, it was drugs and guns and whatever else. He got himself killed before I even made it to juniors."

"I'm so sorry," Sansa muttered, laying a hand on his arm. Sandor tangled their fingers up absentmindedly, still talking.

"Nah, it wasn't a loss. He was a vicious asshole. He did this to me, you know," Sandor informed her, in the same tone as someone might ask after the weather. With a sinking pit of horror in her stomach, Sansa looked again at the skin on his face, off colored and scarred.

"He -- he -- how?" She stammered, unable to comprehend the violence Sandor had faced. He was watching her calmly, like he was evaluating how she reacted to the story.

"We were playing as kids. I had a toy, an old Gretsky figurine. Pretending to be the great one, you know? Like every damn kid in Canada back then and my brother was already way too old to give a shit about hockey players. But he thought it was his. We had an old, shitty radiator in that house, and so he just grabbed me and held me to it. They got hot back then, hot enough to burn, and then…." Sandor trailed off, but Sansa's shock remained. She's figured his scar had came from some accident he wasn't ready to disclose. She'd never imagined it would be anything like this.

"I can't -- I'm sorry he -- I didn't --" Words were impossible, so she simply shut up. She sat silently, and just squeezed his hand. What else could she say or do here, when he was telling her something she could never imagine, with her happy if not slightly dysfunctional family? What did she, the baby sister of Robb Stark, know? Theon called her princess in Russian, dragging out the vowels in his accent, grinning. Jon always gave her the last cookie or scoop of ice cream, even when she was being a wicked little brat. All she'd known from her older siblings was love, the sort of familial love where even during their worst moments, the unspoken trust stayed strong.

"My sister, she died of a genetic disorder before she even had ten years here. Better for her, less time with my brother," Sandor added and Sansa squeezed his hand again, tighter. “Then my mom drank herself to death, and my dad worked himself into the ground. Died right there on the floor at work, and that was the end of it. The old man who was hosting me at the time, the one I told you about, he took me in and made me the hockey player I am today.”

 

“So you’re an orphan,” Sansa realized, with a sadness so deep it nearly made her sick. She couldn’t imagine losing a single one of her siblings, not even Theon or Jon, and the thought of her parents dying was more than she could handle. To lose everyone, even if they hadn’t been a close family, must have been devastating. 

 

“Something like that,” Sandor muttered and Sansa pulled him close, uncaring if it was too much for their short relationship. 

 

“Well I have more family than I know what to do with. You can borrow any of mine that you’d like,” she stated, and meant for it to sound teasing. Instead it rang true, and Sandor leaned back to look at her. Something curious was in his eyes, something that seemed hesitant but intrigued. 

 

“I don’t think I want to claim Arya,” he declared finally and Sansa gave a hearty laugh. 

 

“Alright fine, that’s fair. You don’t have to claim her.” 

 

“Alright,” he said, seeming to agree with her, and kissed her head. Sansa snuggled in closer to him, grinning. This felt right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said mill city is really special to me and so if you ever get a chance to go to the farmers market and sit on the steps and have some bread, there is nothing more soothing to the soul. 
> 
> y'all, reviews are my bread and butter (see what i did there?)
> 
> blessings thank you


	10. Blarney's Pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmfao I get my car repaired and then the stone in my engagement ring falls out. AND IT SNOWED HERE. IN OCTOBER. 
> 
> guys. life. 
> 
> y'all make this world go round with reviews and I could not do this with all the support. blessings. thank you. send vodka. (or just come with me Blarney's. same difference.)
> 
> (also I KNOW MN DOESN'T WIN FLOYD ((the trophy between us and Iowa)) BUT THIS IS MY STORY AND I DO WHAT I WANT. WHO HATES IOWA! WE HATE IOWA!)

“You have to go out,” Margaery said smugly, as she and Sansa both watched as Drogo hoisted Floyd high in the air and Dany twisted herself around him for a photo. 

 

“Absolutely not,” Sansa protested, amused. The pig trophy was being passed from player to player, and though most of the stadium had cleared of deliriously happy Gopher fans and disgruntled Iowa fans, they remained for the photos. 

 

“We beat Iowa,” Margaery said, with just the right amount of reverence, nudging Sansa. “That’s happened how many times since you can remember? We have to celebrate.” 

 

“Mel won’t like it,” Sansa retorted, though her resolve was weakening. The animosity between Minnesota and Iowa had erupted this afternoon, and for once Minnesota had came out on top. Sansa was sure her father was out celebrating wildly, and would be faced with a wicked hangover in the morning. 

 

“Mel knows that we do this like once a year. It’s not even season yet, technically,” Margaery declared and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

“Season starts the second we walk on campus, you know it and so do I.” 

 

“This is Floyd,” Margaery gestured to the pig once again. “We’re going out, we’re getting trashed, and that’s the end of it.” 

 

“Then why bother asking me, if you’re just going to tell me nonetheless?” Sansa winched as Dany nearly dropped the trophy. 

 

“It’s polite,” Margaery said properly and Sansa snorted. 

 

“Like you’ve ever cared once about politeness.” 

 

“If you’d been raised in my family, you wouldn’t either,” Margaery stated, and then Dany was passing off the trophy to them, so Sansa grabbed the other side and lifted it high above her head, grinning into the camera. 

 

When she went to post it to social media, she paused for a second, thinking about what Sandor had said. She wasn’t on social media as much anymore, but that was more a reflection of her time with Joffrey than anything else. So much time and effort had went into pretending that her life was perfect and shinning, when at the end, all it took was a 23 second clip that went viral to show everyone that she was bullshitting. 

 

She didn’t want to pretend anymore. She was sick of the filters and the captions and the endless fussing. But this was too good, the photo of her kissing Floyd’s snout and Margaery kissing his ass, and there was a little nagging part of her that reminded her somehow Sandor Clegane checked her social media, so she posted it anyway, them with the trophy and the caption reading, 

 

_‘was gonna go vegetarian but we love bacon!’_

 

Her stop by her parents’ tent was brief, since Margaery was adamant about strong arming her home to get changed and ready for the night. Already, she was busy texting away, trying to figure out where the best parties would be. By the time Sansa kissed her mother goodbye and warned her father to stop taking shots of Fireball, Margaery had an itinerary as long as Sansa’s forearm. Half the team was invited to their apartment to get ready, and so Sansa relented. She was going out tonight. 

 

Jeyne beat them home, which surprised Sansa, until she figured out why. Jeyne was shoving clothes as fast as she could into a duffle bag, clearly packing. Both Sansa and Margaery stood in the doorway to her bedroom, watching, until Jeyne realized they were there and gave a little shout. 

 

“That’s creepy,” she accused, pressing her hand to her heart. 

 

“Where are you going?” Margaery’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

 

“Nowhere,” Jeyne said defensively, and Sansa laughed, uncrossing her arms. 

 

“Use protection, okay? I’m not ready to be a godmother.” 

 

“Who said you’d be a godmother?” Jeyne paused in her packing to give Sansa a skeptical look. 

 

“Who else would be?” 

 

“She’s got you there,” Margaery admitted with laughter, turning to go into the kitchen. “She’s the only one who knows how to take care of a kid.” 

 

“It’s the siblings,” Sansa replied, before kissing Jeyne’s head to show her the teasing was all in good fun. “Marg, what are you doing in the kitchen? If I’m going to die tonight, it’s not going to be from your cooking.” 

 

“We need snacks for our guests!” 

 

“What guests?” Jeyne followed Sansa into the living room. “We’re having a party?” 

 

“A pre-party,” Sansa corrected, as Margaery pulled down bowls and chips from the pantry. “With not that many people, right Margy?” 

 

“Right,” Jeyne snorted, patting Sansa’s shoulder. “Good luck. Don’t call me, hopefully I’ll be getting laid!” 

 

“Be safe!” Margaery and Sansa yelled in unison, as the door slammed. 

 

“Now help me with this,” Margaery ordered and Sansa laughed as she joined in. 

 

By the time the girls started pouring in, half with dates and half with friends, Sansa retreated to her bathroom to finally shower and get changed. Gilly and Roslin charged into her room, uncaring if she was half naked and supplied her with alcohol and snacks from the living room, as well as running commentary on the outside festivities. Sansa laughed and got ready with them lounging on her bed. 

 

“Do you think there’ll be any hot guys out tonight?” Roslin wondered aloud, reclining with her heels up on Sansa’s pillows. 

 

“Gave up Robb so soon?” Sansa joked and Roslin stuck her tongue out. 

 

“It’s hard to find someone who’s not intimidated by my family,” she muttered and Sansa gave her a sympathetic look. Roslin had more brothers and uncles and cousins than even Sansa, and most of them were known for getting into trouble. 

 

“We can find you someone tonight,” Gilly promised. 

 

“What, you’re not looking for anyone?” Sansa questioned, as she swiped on lipstick. “Gonna wing woman?” 

 

“I don’t believe in love anymore,” Gilly said, almost proudly. “I’ve decided it’s a massive waste of time, waiting for my prince to come. But what about you? On the prowl, or do you have a date with Herb Brooks?” 

 

“Hardy har-har,” Sansa glared at her through the mirror. “That’s not who it is and you know it. Besides, he’s dead, rest his soul.” 

 

“I’m just saying,” Gilly shrugged. “It’s more believable than you with whoever it was, that coach with the scar.” 

 

“You annoy me,” Sansa declared, setting her makeup down. She was ready. “Are we leaving or not?”

 

They were waiting for the Lyft when Sansa’s phone buzzed. It took her a second to check it; Gilly was halfway in the street, trying to prove that she did know the steps to Single Ladies and Sansa was convinced she was going to get hit by a car. By the time they’d all packed into the large SUV that pulled up, Sansa was able to check her phone without anyone taking notice. 

 

**I didn’t think little birds liked bacon.**

 

_Very funny. How come you’re allowed to creep me on social media but I can’t creep you back?_

 

**You think I have anything on social media?**

 

_If we’re going off of your place I mean…_

 

**You looked cute.**

 

_Did I?! Thank you. Did you see me in person or just via your secret account?_

 

**Just my finsta.**

 

_YOU HAVE A FINSTA_

 

_HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS_

 

_I BARELY KNOW WHAT THAT IS_

 

**I coach remember? Plus I know kids.**

 

_Who has kids that you know???_

 

**Buddies.**

 

_You’re an enigma Sandor Clegane. I’m not even drunk yet and I can’t figure you out._

 

**Out partying are you?**

 

“Fine, fine, first round is on me,” Margaery declared to the group at large as they waited to get into the bar, Sansa shivering slightly in the chill October air. 

 

“Do you think she’ll leave her card open and we can just keep putting it on her tab?” Roslin wondered thoughtfully and Sansa snorted. 

 

“She didn’t learn that time freshman year, so it’s likely.” 

 

“How much did we rack up that night?” Shae reminisced. “A couple thousand?” 

 

“Minimum,” Sansa shook her head. 

 

“And of course daddy just pays,” Gilly said, with only the faintest hint of bitterness. “Must be nice.” 

 

“Well here’s your chance to screw over the man who created the costumes of your dreams,” Sansa patted her cheek and stepped past her into the bar. Inside was a riot of noise and colors, with everyone on campus celebrating the win. TV’s in every corner replayed the winning drive, and a boy atop the bar was leading everyone in a rousing rendition of ‘We are the Champions’. 

 

“We haven’t won anything yet,” Roslin observed in bemusement and Sansa laughed, pushing her way to the front of the bar so she could order a drink. 

 

“It’s Minnesota Rosie, we take what we can get here.” 

 

_I got dragged out. I’ve found a nice corner to watch from._

 

**That’s the way to do it then.**

 

_What are you doing tonight then, more film?_

 

**Something like that.**

 

_Do tell!_

 

**Lines. Our first game is next weekend, you know.**

 

_Actually, I did know._

 

**Add them to the planner, did you?**

 

_And if I did?_

 

**Keeping tabs on me?**

 

_Just hoping for an invite._

 

“We’re doing shots!” Margaery screamed, grabbing Sansa’s hands and yanking her up. 

 

“No, please, don’t,” Sansa protested weakly but allowed herself to be brought to the bar to get a shot glass shoved into her hand. 

 

“Everyone listen up!” Margaery yelled, and anyone who could hear her over the thumping music turned. “This bitch right here is my best goddamn friend and fuck any guy that doesn’t see how sexy she is!” 

 

“Alright, maybe we put down the shots, yeah?” Sansa tried to take Margaery’s. “I think you should be done, honey.” 

 

“Fine, then you take both,” Margaery insisted, handing her the two glasses. “I am going to find you a boyfriend.” 

 

“I don’t need one,” Sansa protested, and Margaery forced her to tilt one glass back, then the other. Sansa winched at the strong alcohol, her tolerance not what it once was. 

 

“I’ll do it anyways,” Margaery promised, then tottered away on her tall heels. 

 

“Someone should watch her,” Sansa declared, pressing a hand to her head. She was feeling just a little woozy, just slightly off balance, but nothing awful. She’d had worse. It wasn’t until a hand caught her elbow that she looked up, surprised. The smiling face of Loras greeted her and she relaxed. 

 

“How’s life with my sister treating you?” He asked, helping Sansa find an empty bar stool. 

 

“Good, can’t you tell?” She asked in amusement and he laughed, gesturing for the bartender to come their way. He ordered himself a drink and insisted he buy one for Sansa too, then smiled at her as they waited. 

 

“Sorry if she’s a bit much.” 

 

“Loras, I’ve been living with her for three years,” Sansa laid a hand on his arm to reassure him. “If it was too much, I’m pretty sure I’d have kicked her teeth in by now.” 

 

“Well I lived with her for my whole life, and I’m pretty sure only the threat of being shipped off to Tibet kept me from doing that,” Loras raised his glass in a salute and Sansa clinked her’s against it. “To living with the whirlwind.” 

 

“Hear, hear,” Sansa agreed and took a sip. “How’s season going?” 

 

“It’s going,” he nodded, looking around. Sansa hadn’t even noticed the swim team had arrived, but in the distance she saw Renly, Loras’s on and off again boyfriend, as well as the swimmer Brienne and synchro divers, the twins Fossoway. 

 

“And things with your boy?” She nudged his shoulder and he sighed. “That bad, huh?” 

 

“I thought we’d gotten past the whole gay thing,” Loras said moodily. “But he still won’t tell his family about us, no matter what. I get it, your brothers are assholes, but it sucks that he won’t even try.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Sansa rubbed his arm sympathetically. “Do you need someone to talk to about it?” 

 

**Hope you’re being safe then little bird.**

 

_Oh no_

 

**What??**

 

**Sansa??**

 

**Are you alright? What’s wrong?**

 

_Drunkk to much_

 

**You drank too much?**

 

_Loras neded a friend !_

 

**Loras Tyrell? What were you doing?**

 

_Comisterating g_

 

**Why were you commiserating?**

 

_Sad_

 

**Are you sad?**

 

_No_

 

_Yes_

 

_No_

 

**Sansa?**

 

_Hi person Sansa has been texting. This is Brienne. Sansa is currently refusing to leave with her drunk roommates and prefers that her ‘knight in shining armor’ come get her. She seems pretty adamant that this number will pick her up instead, so if possible, can you come get her?_

 

**Just tell me where she’s at.**

 

“Sandor!” Sansa yelled, when she saw the black pickup come to a stop on the side of the road. She lurched to her feet, Brienne not far behind. 

 

“What did you do?” Sandor’s tone was gruff and seemingly annoyed, but Sansa knew better. There was tenderness there, buried deep below it all. 

 

“She was drinking a lot, and pretty quickly - I think I saw her take shots with—” Brienne was talking to Sandor, but Sansa didn’t need her help. She grabbed Sandor’s hands and brought them up to her cheeks, with an expression of utmost seriousness. 

 

“Feel,” she implored. “Warm, huh?” 

 

“Where did a lightweight like you get the idea to take shots?” Sandor was asking her or Brienne, she wasn’t very sure, but Sandor’s rough hands were quickly becoming fascinating, and Brienne was answering anyways. 

 

“The Tyrell girl.” 

 

“Ah,” Sandor sighed and looked down at Sansa. She beamed up at him, delighted to see him. “Thanks for the call then….” 

 

“Brienne Tarth,” Brienne filled in. “I swim for the U.” 

 

“Ah, well, thank you,” Sandor said, patting Sansa’s head and gently pulling his hands away from her. “I can get her home safe.”

 

“I am not going home,” Sansa declared firmly, thinking about what was going on there now. Margaery had dragged a boy home, and Sansa knew that her roommate was not one for discreet sex. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, get in the car,” Sandor ordered, opening the door and Sansa pouted, but being with him was better than nothing, so she obeyed. Before she could step up into the cab, Brienne caught her elbow and stopped her. Sansa glanced up into Brienne’s crystalline blue eyes, confused. 

 

“Sansa,” her tone seemed urgent. “Do you really want to go home with him? That’s Sandor Clegane.” 

 

“I know,” Sansa tugged her arm away, annoyed. “I know who he is.” 

 

“I just—” Brienne let her arm go, eyes wide. “I didn’t know that you….” 

 

“Thanks!” Sansa said dismissively, getting into the truck. A second later, Sandor was in, and quiet enveloped them. 

 

“Are you alright? Are you going to throw up?” Sandor demanded of her and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, but Sandor had a skeptical look. 

 

“Alright, if you say so, but if you’re going to, roll down the window first.” 

 

“You worry,” Sansa accused and he sighed, reaching over and fastening her seatbelt. 

 

“Can you blame me little bird? Now sit tight and I’ll take you home.” 

 

“No!” Sansa cried. “Not home!” 

 

“What, why?” Sandor looked at her in alarm. 

 

“Marg…. A guy….” The world was blurring around her, and Sansa felt so tired, words didn’t seem to be so easy anymore. 

 

“Margaery is with a guy?” Sandor guessed, navigating back towards her apartment. 

 

“Yes,” Sansa nodded, grateful that he was taking over the speaking. “Sex.” 

 

“What?” Sandor nearly ran over a student who misjudged the speed of the large black truck. Sansa only rolled her eyes.

 

“Marg sex,” Sansa clarified, annoyed she had to explain. 

 

“She’s having sex?” Sandor’s shoulders dropped. “In your apartment, is that why you don’t want to go home?” 

 

“Gross,” Sansa muttered, shutting her eyes. But with the lurching of the truck and her head starting to pound, it only served to make her more nauseous. She opened her eyes hastily. 

 

“Where do you want to go then, Robb’s?” Sandor questioned and Sansa shot him a dark look. “Or doesn’t he know that his precious little sister drinks?” 

 

“Oh, he knows,” Sansa told him, trying to roll down the window and seem casual about it. “I can outdrink anyone.” 

 

“Don’t write checks with your ass your mouth can’t cash,” Sandor warned and that struck Sansa as deeply amusing, in a dark way. She chuckled, shaking her head. “What?” 

 

“My dad says that,” she explained, before the cold night air rushed in. She shivered, but the air was bracing, and hopefully sobering her up some. She didn’t think she was slurring her words, but at this point she couldn’t be certain. “Are we a cliche?” 

 

“A what?” Sandor turned towards the river and Sansa smiled, hoping that he was going where she wanted him to go. 

 

“Cliche,” she repeated, playing with fraying in the jeans she’d worn. “The student and the coach?” 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sandor muttered and dragged his hand over his face, pulling at the scars and stubble. Sansa suddenly felt incredible dumb, like she’d asked a question he wasn’t ready to share the answer to. 

 

“Never mind,” she said hastily. “That was stupid. We’re not even a thing. Sorry, dumb. I drank too much, and I talk too much, and I don’t know, we’re not even talking are we? Sorry, just let me out here, I’ll go, I can—” She reached for the door, intending to open it and throw herself out of the moving vehicle. 

 

“Hand off the door Stark,” Sandor ordered sharply and there was a part of her brain, not too inebriated or embarrassed that noted it was his coaching voice, full of authority and power. She let go, slowly. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

 

“To which part?” She asked quietly and he shot her an incredulous look. 

 

“Any of it.” 

 

“I don’t know what we are,” Sansa said quietly. “And I’m drunk and confused and you’re taking me home. Right?” 

 

“Right,” he said, a little heavily, and they were both quiet, as the city outside their windows rolled past, equal parts bright lights and moments of darkness. Sansa shivered, and Sandor rolled up her window partly without a word. When they crossed the bridge, Sansa thought about the waters rushing below it and wondered if they were cold, or if they’d be warmer than Sandor was being to her now. 

 

Parking at his apartment was done in silence, as was Sandor’s decision to pick her up and carry her, bridal style, because the heels she’d chosen for the evening were pinching her feet. She put her arms around his neck carefully, and couldn’t help leaning in to smell him. He didn’t smell like aftershave or deodorant or anything else; Sansa must’ve woken him up so late that he’d forgone all that. He smelled like milk soap and coffee, and Sansa liked that she got a glimpse at who he was when there was no one else around. 

 

“I can walk,” she insisted, when they reached his floor. Sandor carefully let her down, then unlocked his door. 

 

“You can sleep in my bed,” he said, turning to open the closet by the door so he could pull extra blankets out. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and—”

 

“So we’re not gonna talk about it?” Sansa burst, crossing her arms defensively in front of herself. The body suit she’d worn out on Roslin’s request had seemed sexy, but now she just felt exposed. 

 

“About what?” Sandor seemed to be doing his level best to avoid her, darting past her to make up the couch. 

 

“What are we?” Sansa threw her hands up and Sandor froze. “I like you, so fucking what? Who cares what Brienne fucking Tarth thinks? Or Jeyne, or Marg, or anyone else on my team thinks? You think I give a fuck if Umber approves or not? I don’t. I don’t at all! They can all suck it, cause I like you, and we’re not a cliche!” 

 

“What the actual hell?” Sandor looked at her, bewildered. “What the hell?” 

 

“I want to know if you like me!” Sansa wanted to stomp her feet, but she knew that wouldn’t be a good look. “Do you like me?” 

 

“Of course I fucking like you,” Sandor replied, looking supremely uncomfortable. The sheets dangled from his hands, half tucked into the couch. “Why is that the issue?” 

 

“It’s not an issue,” Sansa said darkly. “Are you embarrassed of me?” 

 

“What?” Sandor threw the blankets down. “Why would I be?” 

 

“I’m young, I’m a student,” Sansa challenged him. “I’m not old and mature and whatever.” 

 

“Fucking hell,” Sandor rubbed his face again. “It’s 3 am. Can we go to bed and talk about it in the morning?” 

 

“Fine,” Sansa pushed past him, angry now and wanting to cry somewhere he wouldn’t see her. “Whatever. Thanks for getting me.” She was a polite drunk, and always remembered her courtesies. 

 

“Sansa,” Sandor called helplessly, but she slammed the door shut behind her, where she could cry in peace. 

 

She pulled her clothes off, finding a large and soft teeshirt of Sandor’s folded into a drawer. She pulled that on, and tried to wash off her waterproof makeup as best she could. She braided her hair back in a desperate attempt to contain the mess, then crawled into the massive king sized bed in the middle of the room. Sandor’s sheets were silky and cool, and Sansa wanted to stay up, angry at him and planning her next attack, but the alcohol had other plans, and she was pulled into sleep before she could even rehash their fight. 

 

The moment Sansa woke up, she cursed the generations of Tyrell’s that had married and the circumstances that led to the birth of Margaery. As far as she was concerned, they had all conspired to bring her here, to the brink of death. She groaned and stretched, her skin sliding along the smooth sheets, glad that at least she’d made it into her own bed and hadn’t crashed on their couch amidst the crumbs and old magazines. 

 

But her bed had soft cotton sheets, not silk ones, and she was usually covered in blankets, instead of one large, heavy comforter. 

 

Her eyes popped open and she grabbed a fistful of the sheets, fighting back to the urge to vomit. And it was not just from the wicked hangover. She was in Sandor’s bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment, because she had thought it was a good idea to call him when she was almost blackout drunk in an Irish pub. And she had yelled at him. She didn’t remember the specifics, but she knew they centered around relationship questions. 

 

“Oh, fuck me,” she whispered to the empty room, and rolled over. On the nightstand she spotted a glass of water and two white pills, which only served to make her stomach sink deeper. So Sandor had been in here then, and he had seen her in her messy glory. She berated herself in her head, reaching for the water. It took her a minute, but eventually she sat up. 

 

Sandor had a large mirror directly across the the bed, and the reflection of freshman year Sansa was staring back at her. Hair she’d tried to put in a braid, but mostly in disarray. Makeup, smudged and smeared around her eyes, which were rimmed red. Skin, pale and dull. And worst of all, Sandor’s shirt that hung like a dress on her, limp. She looked like she’d been hit with a car and tossed into the river. 

 

She eased out of bed, trying to pad as quietly as she could to the bathroom. She knew there were two doors connecting it, and her nightmare was that Sandor would see her. Thankfully, the door to the living room was shut and the bathroom was Sandor free. She locked the doors quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she turned to the mirror, trying desperately to make something of herself. 

 

It was hard work, given that Sandor’s bathroom essentials were limited to two boxes of Irish Spring soap, one bottle of aftershave, one can of shaving cream, a razor with three detachable heads, shampoo, conditioner, one toothbrush, a single tube of toothpaste, and Robb’s favorite brand of deodorant. She didn’t dwell on the Freudian implications of that, instead using the soap to scrub her face clean, winching at the sight of her without makeup. She fashioned a cute half bun from her hair disaster, then tried to slip back into Sandor’s room. She stopped dead when she saw him beside the bed, retrieving the empty water glass. 

 

“Sorry,” he said instantly upon seeing her. “I didn’t mean — I thought you were —”

 

“Sorry,” Sansa parroted back, in the same breath. “I shouldn’t have — I am so —” 

 

“Sansa,” he cut them both off and Sansa fell silent, looking down to avoid his eyes. She nearly groaned aloud when she realized it was from his Stanley Cup win, wondering how he felt about her sleeping in what had to be very special piece of clothing. “I didn’t mean to come in before you were ready.” 

 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to pick my trashed ass up from the bar,” Sansa replied, embarrassment flooding every bone in her body. “That was absolutely out of line, I never should’ve done that.” 

 

“I didn’t mind,” Sandor’s voice was surprisingly soft and when she looked up at him, he had a small smile on his face, one she’d almost deem hopeful. “Better than you trying to get home by yourself. You were also pretty upset, said something about Margaery and sex?”

 

“Shit,” Sansa smacked her forehead. “Yeah, she left with a guy. She’s been known not to make it to the bedroom. Still, that is not an excuse to call you and make you drive across town to get me.” 

 

“It wasn’t that far,” Sandor shrugged and Sansa gave a humorless snort. 

 

“I should start paying you gas money, considering how often you have to take me around.” 

 

“I don’t mind,” he tried to reassure her, and Sansa felt sick again, remembering how she’d yelled at him and demanded he put a label on their relationship. She stepped forward, reaching for her phone and her dirty outfit from the night before, dingy now in the morning light. 

 

“I should go,” she muttered. “I’ll just leave, okay? I’m so sorry.” 

 

“What, are we not going to talk about it?” For the first time, Sandor looked annoyed. Sansa stopped, staring at him. 

 

“About what I said last night?” She asked in disbelief and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “You want to rehash that? I was so out of line, I figured you’d….” 

 

“I’d be so mad at you I’d kick you out in the morning?” Sandor guessed and this time it was Sansa who nodded after a long, cautious pause. “Why would I be mad? You made some good fucking points.” 

 

“I — Thank you — What?” 

 

“I’ve been enjoying this,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes in favor of going to open the curtains. The light hurt Sansa’s already pounding head and she flinched. “And I guess I figured if I changed it, it would send it all to shit.” 

 

“I mean, I’ve been enjoying it too,” Sansa admitted hesitantly, treading carefully over what felt like a minefield. “I just, I get sad when I’m drunk, and confrontational apparently, and I’m sorry.” 

 

“Would you stop chirping sorry?” He demanded and she shut her mouth. “You had every goddamn right to call me out. I just, I don’t know how to do something like this.” 

 

“Like what?” She asked, after it became apparent that it was her turn to speak again. 

 

“Relationships,” Sandor said heavily. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of shit at them.” 

 

“In case you haven’t heard, that makes two of us,” Sansa said darkly, and Sandor looked up at her in surprise. “I was a dumb, sloppy drunk. Can we forget it?” 

 

“I don’t want to,” Sandor stepped towards her suddenly and Sansa looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t want to forget it, Sansa. I spent all last night on that uncomfortable fucking couch, thinking about how I would rather be in here with you. And that I’d do whatever you wanted to make that happen. Because I want to be with you.” 

 

“Oh,” Sansa said, a little awestruck. She sank down on the corner of the bed and Sandor sat beside her, taking her hand when she didn’t pull away. 

 

“Too much?” He asked, with a little winch and Sansa shook her head, leaning forward so that her forehead rested against his bicep. 

 

“Now what?” She questioned, partly to himself and partly to herself. 

 

“Let’s get you some Gatorade,” Sandor suggested with a kiss to the head, still holding fast to her hand. 

 

“No, Pedalite,” Sansa told him as they stood and he gave her a confused look. “It’s better for you.” 

 

“And something greasy. Didn’t you say something on social media about bacon?” 

 

“Don’t remind me,” Sansa said with a groan. “That stupid pig trophy is what started all of this.” 

 

“I don’t mind,” Sandor said softly, tilting his head down to kiss her. Sansa pulled away. 

 

“No, I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she admitted and he laughed, drawing her closer. 

 

“I don’t give a goddamn Stark, you smell like a brewery and I like it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also going wedding dress shopping today so if you could send me a word of encouragement, that is much appreciated. 
> 
> may your weekends be filled with sunshine and love. everyone who reads this deserves it!!


	11. The Godfather of Hockey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first things first tumblr is a bitch and won't let me edit my master post
> 
> so from here on i will have a glossary at the end of chapters with explanations and any visual aids will still be posted on my tumblr (and i will go back and edit previous chapters but urgh work)
> 
> also the chapter title is the nickname of John Mariucci, who's last name adorns the U of M arena, and who coached my high school hockey coach! fun facts for ya. 
> 
> enjoy!!!

**So what is it tonight?**

 

_To what are you referring to?_

 

**Don’t bullshit**

 

**I know your schedule looks like a toddler got into graph paper with markers**

 

_Firstly I resent being compared to a toddler, as I am marginally neater than them and secondly tonight is my philanthropy meeting._

 

**You’re listening to music?**

 

_Not a symphony. It’s a sorority thing you goose, it’s a meeting that’s boring as fuckkkkkkk. We’re mainly bickering about if we want to work with babies or puppies._

 

**I’m sure you’re conflicted. Are you recovered from the weekend?**

 

_Absolutely not. But I’ve got a nice new pajama shirt._

 

**Thought something was missing**

 

_If you want, I’ll return it!_

 

**It’s cuter on you than me**

 

_Why thank you!_

 

**What do you have this weekend then?**

 

_Oh, there’s studying and a Spanish club meeting and volunteering at the soup kitchen. There’s maybe some time for Netflix and one grocery run. I’m out of hummus._

 

**I’ll grab some for you, I’m going to Whole Foods next**

 

_Really!?_

 

**Fuck no.**

 

_You have to stop eating gas station food, you can only maintain the body of a Norse god for so long._

 

**Looking at my body, little bird?**

 

_Stop, I’m not suppose to blush this much when talking about a canine calendar._

 

**What are you doing on Saturday then**

 

_Well re: everything above, plus something else that takes up my evening hours. I’ll give you one guess as to what it is!_

 

**So I’ll count on seeing you there**

 

_Oh, me and half my team. We’ll be in the student section. Can I cheer for you?_

 

**I don’t do anything**

 

_You coach!_

 

**See you there, Stark.**

 

“Hey, how was your meeting?” Margaery called, sitting on the couch. 

 

“It was fine,” Sansa said, shedding her fall coat and hanging her purse by the door. 

 

“I made snacks!” Margaery said cheerfully and Sansa looked at her in alarm, before smiling when she saw the bowl of popcorn puffs on the coffee table. Margaery herself was wrapped in a fluffy robe with a seaweed green face mask on. 

 

“Got any of that stuff left?” Sansa asked, kicking her boots into the pile by the door. 

 

“Gold tube on my nightstand,” Margaery informed her, idly turning the page of her book. “It’s infused with gold serum, it’s good for preventing wrinkles.” 

 

“Oh, I assumed it would be,” Sansa teased, going to change into her own pajamas. She pulled on Sandor’s shirt, absentmindedly rubbing the hem as she walked into Margaery’s room to find said tube. She squeezed a generous amount onto her finger tips, rubbing it into her skin and going back to the couch. 

 

“What are you wearing?” Margaery glanced up at her. “I thought you were a Wild fan.” 

 

“I am,” Sansa said, hiding a smile as she pulled her favorite fuzzy blanket to her chin. It reminded her of her husky, Lady.“But the Ducks are an okay team too.” 

 

“Weird name for a team,” Margaery muttered and Sansa took a handful of the puffs. 

 

“Are you going to the hockey game this weekend?” She asked Margaery, who shrugged. 

 

“I know you’re going to go, little miss hockey nut, but I don’t like being cold for no good reason,” she declared and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

“It’s not even that cold.” 

 

“You don’t count. You were born in a snow drift,” Margaery complained and Sansa grinned but before she could retort the door opened again. 

 

“Oh, face masks? Without me?” Jeyne dropped her backpack on the floor with a betrayed expression. “The only thing that would make this worse is if you were watching Shameless too.” 

 

“I finished that last week,” Margaery declared and Jeyne threw her socks at her. 

 

“Brats, the both of you. I’m doing it too,” Jeyne darted into Margaery’s bedroom, and when she came out with a green face, she tugged at Sansa’s blankets. “Lemme in.” 

 

“Alright, come on,” Sansa scooted over and Jeyne stopped, looking at Sansa’s shirt. For a second, her brow creased, but she didn’t say anything as she lay down besides Sansa. They all watched a few episodes of Parks and Rec, before Margaery yawned. 

 

“Alright, I’m washing this off and going to bed. Goodnight lames,” she announced, standing and stretching. 

 

“Night,” Sansa and Jeyne both muttered, and once Margaery was in her room with the door closed, Jeyne rounded on Sansa. 

 

“Alright, what the fuck?” She hissed and Sansa raised an eyebrow. 

 

“What did I do?” 

 

“What the fuck is this?” Jeyne tugged at the shirt. “You don’t root for the Ducks, you only cheer for the Wild. Why are you wearing it?” 

 

“It’s comfy,” Sansa tried to tell her, but Jeyne was forcing her to roll over. 

 

“Does that fucking say Clegane on the back?” Her long, thin fingers prodded Sansa in the side furiously. “What the fuck? What the fuck? Are you fucking him? Holy shit Sansa!” 

 

“Would you shut up?” Sansa rolled back over and hushed her. “Marg is gonna wake up and I do not want to explain this.” 

 

“You have to explain to me or I’ll murder you,” Jeyne threatened. “I’m your oldest and truest friend, and if you were being serious about the fact that you like the boys hockey coach, I deserve the truth.” 

 

“I tried to tell you all,” Sansa muttered, and Jeyne groaned. 

 

“You are a masterful liar, and none of us took you seriously!” 

 

“Maybe you should start taking me seriously,” Sansa said tartly and Jeyne glared. “I like him, it’s as simple as that!” 

 

“I don’t believe it,” Jeyne said skeptically. 

 

“Fine, come to the hockey game this weekend and you’ll see,” Sansa got up off the couch and drew her blanket around her. 

 

“Who the fuck is she?” She heard Jeyne mutter behind her back, as she went to her bathroom. She washed her face clean, and climbed into bed, pulling her covers up and picking up her phone, one last time. 

 

_Can’t wait, Clegane._

 

* * *

 

 

Saturday morning dawned chilly and rainy, making Sansa grateful the football team was in Maryland and she wasn’t forced to cheer in this weather. She threw on leggings and a oversized sweatshirt, tugging on rain boots. She headed to her meeting, holding tight to her coffee mug. She loved overcast days like this, when the grey of the sky mirrored the grey of the buildings. The world was quieter, dampened by the rain, and she could always breathe better when there was a bit of sharp air in her lungs. 

 

She had plenty of things to keep her busy during the day, between her meeting, lunch with a freshman student who was thinking about studying abroad and wanted to hear about Sansa’s time, and the mountain of homework she’d slowly let pile up during the week. But it didn’t stop her from thinking about Sandor, and daydreaming about tonight. 

 

Maybe he’d meet her at the top of the concourse, smiling that cocky little half smile she knew he got when he was trying to hide just how happy he really was. He’d take her hand, pull her close, and rest one large palm on the small of her back. Tuck her hair back. Sansa would adjust his tie, quip something witty about the game, and he’d pull her in for a kiss, right there in front of everyone. 

 

Otherwise she thought about walking down the steep steps, all the way to the ice, and he’d shuffle across to meet her. Smile, maybe laugh. Only if they won. Would he kiss her in front of his team? Or would he wait for the whole arena to clear, and they’d have a moment, just them, at center ice? Kissing until they shut the lights off, and then she’d really laugh. 

 

She wondered what she should do if they lost. Was he one who took it personally, too personally? Did he get angry or sad, blame it all on himself? Would he want comfort in the form of distraction, or rather silence? Perhaps after all the years of playing and coaching, he didn’t take each loss personally, and could let it roll of his back with ease, knowing the next one was a chance to do it all over again. 

 

She gave up on her translation homework halfway through it, resolving for it to be a Sunday thing. She couldn’t keep still anymore, and her focus was absolutely gone. She kept thinking about the game and Sandor. There was nothing else she could do besides get ready, and she headed to the shower. She was just blowing her hair into loose waves when Jeyne appeared in her doorway, watching. 

 

“What’s up?” Sansa asked, when Jeyne didn’t say a word. 

 

“Have you been checking the group message?” She asked, after a long moment and Sansa glanced at her bed where her phone was charging. 

 

“Not lately, why?” 

 

“Just that there’s a couple of us coming to the game. Ros, me, you, Gilly, Lyanna, a few of the other girls.” 

 

“Oh, fun,” Sansa said, shutting off her straightener. 

 

“And are you going to tell all those girls about your thing with the coach then?” Something in Jeyne’s tone was accusatory and Sansa stopped, turning fully to look at her. Arms crossed, gazing sullenly at the floor, her best friend avoided her eyes. 

 

“It’s not exactly like we’ve planned things out on how we’re going to tell people,” she said gently, getting up and going to take Jeyne’s elbows. “He’s not a planner at all, really.” 

 

“Yeah, okay, but it’s me,” Jeyne whispered, and a single tear slipped out. “You should have told me.” 

 

“We weren’t hiding it,” Sansa insisted, drawing her into a hug. “You know I would never keep secrets from you!” 

 

“Yes you would,” Jeyne protested, refusing to hug her back. “You didn’t say shit about Joffrey to me, not until I had to watch him hit you in public, in front of everyone!” 

 

“Hey,” Sansa drew back sharply, letting Jeyne go, hurt. “Don’t bring that up. Don’t compare Sandor to him. He is nothing like Joffrey!” 

 

“How would I know that then, if you didn’t tell me?” Jeyne raised her eyes to Sansa’s and she was struck at just how upset her friend seemed. Sansa hadn’t thought it was a big deal, not sharing about Sandor, but clearly it hurt others. 

 

“I wasn’t trying to keep secrets,” Sansa told her, relenting just a little bit. “I promise. I would never, because you’re my best friend.” 

 

“Better than Marg?” Jeyne muttered and Sansa chuckled. 

 

“Yes, even better than her. But I did try to tell you all,” Sansa reminded her quietly and Jeyne took a deep breath. 

 

“Guess we’re learning to take things at face value now. You swear you didn’t tell me because we’re not best friends anymore?” 

 

“We’re still best friends,” Sansa vowed, pulling her into a tight hug. “And you’re still the first person I’ve told, so you know. Actually, just kidding. Talisa knew first. But that’s because she’s got scary pregnant lady intuition.” 

 

“Second isn’t bad,” Jeyne pulled back, a smile back on her face, even if it was a watery one. “So when are you going to tell your mother?” 

 

“Never,” Sansa stated, sitting back down in front of her mirror and grabbing her mascara. “Seriously, never.” 

 

“Good idea,” Jeyne chuckled, going for Sansa’s closet. “So what are we going to wear tonight then for your new man, huh?” 

 

“Here we go,” Sansa muttered, but with a smile on her face. 

 

Jeyne eventually settled on booties and tights, with a maroon corduroy skirt and a tight yellow off the shoulder long sleeve. Sansa added her favorite Gopher colored mittens, and tossed a scarf in her bag just in case. Jeyne threw on a sweatshirt and leggings, proclaiming that she had no one to impress. If they made an odd pair, no one said anything until they arrived outside the arena. 

 

“You are so goddamn cute all the time,” Gilly lamented, when she spotted Sansa. “Seriously, it’s not even fair.” 

 

“If she’s so cute, why do you look like a hobo?” Ros demanded of Jeyne, who shrugged, but grinned at Sansa when the other girls turned to join the crush of students heading into the arena. Sansa let herself get swept up too, in the crowd and the sights and smells. The home opener was always a well attended, if not rather eclectic gathering. As her ticket was scanned and Sansa joined the rest of the crowd on the escalators going up, she observed them. 

 

Dads with their kids, who were already eagerly chattering about snacks and game pucks and autographs. Young teenagers, in groups, probably on dates. Entire teams of hockey players, mostly pee-wees or squirts, running through the crowd with matching Bauer jackets, usually chased by some harried parent regretting volunteering for the outing. Old men in faded sweatshirts, already talking stats and percentages, armchair analysts out in the wild. 

 

And students, students like her, flooding towards their section, some half drunk, some already mostly drunk, and all of them rowdy. Sansa took her spot amongst the rest of the girls, smoothing down her skirt. Out on the ice, warm ups were ending, and the coaches had already disappeared down the tunnel, so Sansa took a deep breath to even out the nerves she felt, all of the sudden. 

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t play hockey,” Ros said to Lyanna, who was pulling her long, dark hair into a ponytail. 

 

“Oh, I did,” she revealed, and Sansa smiled. She remembered Lyanna as a kid, running between dance and hockey. She’d been able to keep up with Sansa’s choreography, then turned around and skated with Robb and Theon and Jon better than Sansa could ever hope to. “And I can still cross check a bitch if I need to.” 

 

“That’s the girl I know and love,” Sansa said fondly. 

 

“Am I late? Did I miss any of it?” Arianne asked, bounding down the stairs, pausing when a drunk guy threw his arms out. Arianne gave him an annoyed look, pushing past him before coming to sit at Ros’s side. 

 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming,” Ros said in delight and Arianne shrugged, pulling on a thick jacket though the arena couldn’t have been more than a balmy 40 degrees. 

 

“I promised I’d come to one of these things before we graduated, so I figure this is it,” Arianne said sagely, and the other girls chuckled. “But fair warning, I don’t know anything about this stupid sport you guys like so much.” 

 

“We’ll help get you through it,” Ros promised, patting her knee. “Do you need my mittens?” 

 

“Maybe,” Arianne admitted. 

 

Sansa enjoyed the pre game antics, with the marching band and the silly games on the jumbotron. She answered the trivia with ease, and ignored the fact that the rest of the girls claimed it was rigged when Theon was one of the answers. Her stomach flipped when the music switched, the lights flashing, but it wasn’t from the usual excitement of a game beginning. This time, as she watched the boys skate onto the ice amidst cheers, it wasn’t the players she watched, but those who came after. 

 

Sandor. 

 

He looked good in a suit, she thought wildly, clapping with the other girls to keep up appearances. He stood tall, proud, in a black suit that was cut for his large frame. A deep maroon tie, and his hair down, neat and combed. He held papers and a clipboard, walking to the bench with the other coaches. He didn’t once look her way, but Sansa was content, this time, to be the one in the stands. 

 

She didn’t so much as watch the game as she did Sandor, and listen to the running commentary the girls provided to Arianne. A New Mexico girl, she was unfamiliar with the concept of any sport played on a sheet of ice, and so all rules and play by plays were explained by Gilly, Lyanna, and Jeyne, while the rest of the girls laughed. 

 

“No, boarding and checking are two different things, one is — Shitty call ref!”

 

“It’s called icing, you can’t do it usually, unless you’ve got a guy in the box.” 

 

“Why’s he in the box? Is he in timeout?” 

 

“Yes it’s like timeout, good job, and it’s because it was A BAD CALL REF, ARE YOU GODDAMN BLIND OR JUST DUMB?” 

 

As the first period wound down, Arianne was no better at understanding hockey, but the Gophers were leading by a score of 2-0, and Sansa had spent the whole time enjoying watching Sandor coach, his face stern and serious, his eyes never leaving the boys on the ice. 

 

“One minute remaining in the period, one minute remaining,” the announcer boomed. 

 

“Thank you,” the entire arena chorused back, and Arianne looked around in bewilderment. When the buzzer sounded and the boys skated for the tunnel, the coaches waited to follow. And it was then, just then, that Sandor turned, looking straight up into the student section. Sansa’s heart skipped a beat, and she saw, even with the distance, the faint little smile that crossed his face. 

 

“So what are you guys gonna do after the game?” Jeyne asked, as they waited through intermission. The other girls had gone to get snacks, but Sansa and Jeyne remained behind, watching as mini mites chased the puck near center ice. 

 

“I don’t know,” Sansa admitted, smiling when two tiny players collided and both fell like penguins. “We didn’t really talk about it.” 

 

“Are you going to tell me how it all started?” Jeyne demanded and Sansa huffed, twisting her phone idly in her hands, thinking back. 

 

“Do you remember that alumni booster event? Right before school started?” 

 

“The one where you totally flaked and disappeared halfway through?” Jeyne’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, Marg was annoyed that we lost our sober driver.” 

 

“Poor Marg,” Sansa said stoutly. “Well, Petyr was there. Mom’s creepy board friend Petyr. And I sort of just…. Ran into San— him. And when I explained to him why I was avoiding Petyr, he offered to take me home, and I said yes.” 

 

“Well that’s noble,” Jeyne said, with clear surprise. “I thought he — never mind.” 

 

“What?” Sansa demanded. “Tell me.” 

 

“I thought he maybe was the kind who trolled the bars looking for young girls,” Jeyne admitted, rather sheepishly and Sansa frowned, shoving her with one hand. 

 

“And when would I ever go to bars to get picked up like that?” Sansa pointed out and Jeyne waved a hand. 

 

“Point is, I thought he was the creeper, not the savior from creepers. Let me say that I was wrong and I’m sorry for it.” 

 

“Go ahead,” Sansa leaned back, smiling. Jeyne pouted, before sighing and getting on with it. 

 

“I was wrong for assuming that your much older maybe boyfriend is an exception to the rule and is not, in fact, a secret pervert with a fetish for—”

 

“J.”

 

“Ok fine, I was wrong, I was very, very wrong and I am sorry. It’s just, is he good to you?” Jeyne pleaded, grabbing her hands. “You deserve to have someone good.”

 

“He’s good, I swear,” Sansa squeezed her hands. “He’s really, really good.” 

 

“Well, alright then,” Jeyne took a deep breath. ‘Then I guess I have no choice but to approve of this then.” 

 

“You don’t have to, but it means the world that you do,” Sansa kissed their clasped hands. 

 

“Did you know that they have Dippen Dots here?” Ros arrived, holding two cups filled to the brim with multicolored balls. “I use to always want these as a kid, but my parents would never let me. Suck on this, mom!” 

 

“Are you going to share?” Sansa joked, scooting over so that Ros could take her seat again. 

 

“No,” she said stoutly. 

 

“Fair enough.” 

 

The second period yielded no goals for either team, but several times Sansa caught Sandor’s gaze flashing up to the student section, periodically. She wondered if he saw her. She wondered if he had his phone on him, and if he would text her. She hoped so. She wanted to see him, and she wanted him to see her. 

 

The third period brought more excitement. The play moved from end to end quickly, and Sansa even forgot to watch Sandor in favor of cheering. The Gophers scored two more goals, including one shorthanded, and even though they were scored on once, it didn’t matter. The game came to a satisfying conclusion, and even Arianne seemed to enjoy it. 

 

“Does this mean you’ll come to more games?” Gilly asked, when the buzzer sounded the end of the game and a wave of rising bodies rippled across the stands. 

 

“No, absolutely not,” Arianne vowed, turning up the collar of her jacket. “It’s freezing in here.” 

 

“You’ve lived in Minneapolis for four years, this is downright tropical,” Ros said incredulously and Arianne shivered dramatically. 

 

“Are you two coming?” Gilly asked, when the rest of the girls stood but Sansa and Jeyne remained seated. 

 

“Nah, we’re gonna wait here,” Jeyne said casually and the girls exchanged looks. 

 

“I thought Beric wrestled,” Gilly said slyly. 

 

“Maybe Sansa likes a hockey player,” Ros cocked her head. “She was talking to one at the bar.” 

 

“The day I date Umber is the day Arya dates Justin Bieber,” Sansa retorted and Ros laughed. 

 

“Alright then stay here you losers,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow at conditioning.” 

 

“Don’t remind me,” Sansa groaned, and they departed. Jeyne watched them go then turned to Sansa, cocking an eyebrow. 

 

“What, don’t want to tell them?” 

 

“I’m not telling or hiding anything,” Sansa declared firmly. “I’m just not announcing it or blaring it over social media, alright? Like with you, if you ask I’ll be honest. And if you don’t, then it’s not my problem.” 

 

“Interesting stance to take,” Jeyne mused. “Very anti-past Sansa. I like it.” 

 

“And I live for your approval,” Sansa said dryly. Jeyne stuck her tongue out, then watched people leave for awhile in silence. Sansa sat, spinning her phone in the palm of her hand, until finally Jeyne spoke. 

 

“How long do we wait?” 

 

“You’ll know,” Sansa promised, and they lapsed back into silence. It took ten minutes, or maybe fifteen, but finally then her phone buzzed and she glanced down, her stomach twisting into excited knots. 

 

**You know the way?**

 

_Need any keys?_

 

**I’ll be there if you do.**

 

“Oh, we’re going now?” Jeyne got up to follow Sansa. “And here I was thinking you’d been kidding.” 

 

“Why are we friends?” Sansa questioned and Jeyne smirked. 

 

“Cause we were forced into it by our parents?” 

 

“Ah, that. Right.” 

 

If Jeyne was surprised that Sansa could navigate the lower levels of the arena with ease, she didn’t say anything. Sansa was surprised that none of the maintenance workers or rink managers took a second look at them, before realizing it probably just looked like two girlfriends off to meet their boyfriends. Sansa kept a small smile on her face, thinking to herself that it wasn’t a player she meant to see, but a coach. 

 

They rounded a corner and all of the sudden he was there, walking down the long grey hallway. His hair looked like he’d ran his fingers through it several times, and his tie was just a little loose, but Sansa did a full stop, appreciating just how handsome he was. He looked up and when he spotted her, a wide smile came across his face. He took several steps closer, before spotting Jeyne and pausing in confusion. 

 

“Hi,” she called, and behind her she heard Jeyne whisper under her breath, 

 

“Holy shit.” 

 

“Hey,” he said loudly, resuming walking towards them. 

 

“This is my roommate — and best friend — Jeyne,” Sansa explained, once they were close enough for introductions. 

 

“Jeyne Poole, longest and truest best friend,” Jeyne stuck her hand out and Sandor took it, chuckling. 

 

“Nice to meet you,” he said politely and let go. Jeyne looked between the two of them, before whistling. 

 

“Well, I’m gonna go grab the car, let it warm up, you know,” she said slowly and Sansa dug into her purse to toss her the keys. Jeyne caught them with a wink and turned to go. The second she was out of earshot, Sandor turned to Sansa, eyebrows raised. 

 

“What was that about?” He questioned and Sansa laughed. 

 

“She didn’t believe you — we — were real. So I told her I’d prove it.” 

 

“Prove it? What are we, some kind of game?” 

 

“No!” Sansa said hotly, ready to protest until Sandor chuckled. “Don’t be a jerk, I was just about to tell you how well I thought you coached tonight.” 

 

“Oh, did I?” Sandor leaned against the wall, folding his arms. He was watching Sansa closely, but she liked the attention. She liked his eyes on her. “And what would you know?” 

 

“Well, you looked very stern,” Sansa leaned against the wall, inches from him. “I saw you patting Flint’s head after that shorthanded goal, so yes I think you did a great job.”

 

“You’re a master of sass, little bird,” he muttered and Sansa bit her lip, smiling. 

 

“it’s fun watching you,” she said softly, “instead of being the one performing.” 

 

“I like watching you perform,” Sandor’s fingers were sliding into her hair, and her whole body was aflame with desire. “And I know you love the attention.” 

 

“Just yours mostly,” she whispered and he bent down, pulling her in for a long kiss. Fireworks exploded in her stomach, and her whole body was warm. She flung her arm around Sandor’s neck, pulling him in eagerly. His kisses were something sweeter and deadlier than wine, and she was a drunkard for him. She couldn’t help herself when she bit his lip and he pulled back sharply. She opened her mouth to apologize, sure she’d taken it too far, but he stopped her before she could. 

 

“Don’t start that, not here,” he warned, grey eyes lustful. “Not here.” 

 

“Where?” She tried for it to be teasing, but in came out just a little bit desperate. Sandor kissed her again, harder than last time, until she need the wall for support. 

 

“I suppose your friend Jenna would miss you if I took you home instead,” he said, a little bit wistfully and Sansa snorted. 

 

“Jeyne, and probably, yes. Besides, I….” She trailed off, unsure how to tell him that she wasn’t ready for that. Not with him, not yet. She wanted to be, but after all the disasters of her other relationships she was in no mood to rush. 

 

“It’s fine,” Sandor said hastily, like he could read her mind. “How about I walk you to your car and you give me your analysis of the game?” 

 

“Kiss me some more first,” Sansa requested, and he obliged. 

 

 

* * *

**Glossary**

Ducks = Anaheim Ducks, aka Sandor's former team

Bauer = hockey brand, and they make almost all warm up jackets. These jackets, despite being flimsy, are hockey players sole coats in the winter.

The level of hockey are as follows - 

mini mites - like 3-4 year old (this is the best age they're just bowling pins on skates)

mites - 4 -5 

rink rats - 6 - 7

squirts - 8 - 10

pee wee - 10 - 11

bantam - 11 - 13

and then you're in high school!

one minute remaining - this is something that at every home game, the announcer says, and we all say thank you back. Minnesota nice!  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again you guys i'm just having a bucket of fun writing this and i hope you enjoy reading it plz leave me reviews as they are my lifeblood hugs and kissesssssss


	12. Four Daughters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like fair warning this is as angsty as i'm gonna get folks
> 
> that being said there's still like zero angst so no panicking 
> 
> also four daughters is legit and if you like wine, minnesota, and basic white girl photos, this is the place for you! 
> 
> plz enjoy friends!

A week went by, then two. Halloween fast approached, with Margaery eagerly talking about costumes and parties. Sansa patiently reminded her at every turn that they were technically in season and that Mel wouldn’t appreciate them drinking and partying, but Marg paid her no mind. Her heart was set on her, Sansa, and Jeyne going as Charlie’s Angels, and she’d commissioned custom outfits from her father. Sansa was powerless to tell her no. 

 

Practices were daily, and Mel’s enthusiasm was beginning to border on mania, as per usual for her around this time. Sansa and the other captains tried to temper her demands with plenty of bonding time, but it was difficult to organize around everyone’s schedules. Sansa herself bounced from dance to classes to meetings to the library at a pace that made even her head spin. 

 

There was one thing that Sansa’s life lacked, and it was Sandor. His texts to her were short and usually of no importance, and even when she had a free moment, neither of them extended an invitation to the other. Sansa knew he was busy, now that his own season was in full swing, but there were moments before she went to bed each night where she wondered if he even cared. 

 

It was impossible for her not to think the worst of him. Call it Joffrey, call it life, call it what it was. Sansa excepted that men would cheat, and lie, and treat women like shit in general. There were no men left like her father, who adored her mother and bowed to almost every one of her whims. It made Sansa toss and turn, unable to sleep, assuming that he didn’t want to talk to her anymore. The only thing that gave her a bit of solace was that she was so often exhausted enough to not give it more thought than it deserved. 

 

Jeyne, the only one besides Talisa who even had any idea of what was going on, didn’t seem to notice Sansa’s unhappiness. Perhaps she chalked it up to the fact that Sansa was so busy with things that she'd once been found dozing off in the kitchen while waiting for the electric teapot to go off. That was when Jeyne had ordered she get more than 4 hours of sleep a night. 

 

But tonight was drawing to a close, and as Sansa watched the text in her family’s group message roll in, her exhaustion drove her to tears. 

 

**CS - Mother**

_I don’t see why we can’t have the baptism right after the birth._

 

**Handsomest Brother**

_Talisa’s family wants to fly in mom i’ve told you this_

 

**CS - Mother**

_They can fly in earlier._

 

**Pain in my Ass**

_Am I gonna be the godmother or naaaaah_

 

**RickRock**

_if i hv hcky i cnt cm_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

_Mom you gotta get Rickon a new phone_

 

**Bran Stark**

_Why? He’ll just break it all over again_

 

**CS - Mother**

_Baptism will be first Sunday after the birth. I expect everyone to be there. Well dressed and behaved. Party immediately to follow._

 

**Handsomest Brother**

_Mom Talisa won’t be ready then we’re not having it end of story_

 

**CS - Mother**

_Who can pick Jon up from the airport? If no one can, I will just send a driver, but it is more personal if one of you would._

 

**Pain in my Ass**

_Dibs on Jon!_

 

**CS - Mother**

_Robb, please communicate to Talisa’s parents that we will be hosting it._

 

**Handsomest Brother**

_Fuck off and do it yourself monster_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

_I mean mother_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

_Oh shit_

 

**Handsomest Brother has left disFUNctional fam**

 

**Pain in my Ass has left disFUNctional fam**

 

**RickRock has left disFUNctional fam**

 

“Jesus fuck,” Sansa whispered to herself, turning back to her Spanish essay, minimizing the message and shaking her head. She wasn’t sure her family was going to survive the baby’s birth. When the notification popped up on her phone, she didn’t bother checking to see who it was from, assuming it was her family, her mother likely on a rampage against Robb once again. But it was from Sandor, and her stomach flipped painfully, until she realized what the message said. 

 

**Hey**

 

“Hey?” She muttered to herself, incredulously. They’d hardly spoken for weeks, and all he had to say was a measly hey? 

 

_hi_

 

**What’s up**

 

_homework_

 

**What’s tonight**

 

_spanish_

 

**Oh fun**

 

**Sansa?**

 

_yeah_

 

**Something wrong?**

 

_no_

 

**Clearly**

 

_just think it’s funny that you haven’t even said hi since the game_

 

**I have a job you know**

 

_funny_

 

_cause it’s not like I don’t_

 

**A phone works both ways? You could have said something**

 

_if you don’t want to talk to me then don’t bother. it’s not hard_

 

**Why wouldn’t I want to talk?**

 

_you literally haven’t texted me in days. we haven’t seen each other in weeks. like i can take a hint_

 

**What hint? I’ve just been busy**

 

_k_

 

**Little bird?**

 

**Why are we fighting right now? What the fuck did I do wrong then**

 

_like it doesn’t take that much to text me hi_

 

**Ok sorry I got busy. The start of season is crazy**

 

**I thought you’d understand that**

 

_ok well I can deal when a guy doesn’t want to talk to me. whatever. bye._

 

**Are you seriously pissed at me?**

 

**Sansa?**

 

**Seriously?**

 

**Send me a picture of your schedule then next week.**

 

_Attachment: 1 image_

 

**Tuesday. 7:30. My place. Don’t bring wine, I’ll already have it.**

 

_Fine._

 

Had Sansa had any more time, she might’ve panicked about Tuesday, and what all it meant for her and Sandor. She would, if she wasn’t slammed with homework and meetings and needing to make brownies for a sorority event. So after practice on Tuesday, still sweaty and huffing, she threw everything into her bag and headed for her car. Mya was next to her, and when Sansa’s phone chimed, she looked over. 

 

“Where to now, busy bee?” She asked, joking slightly. Sansa smiled, pulling her hair tie out and running a hand through her hair.

 

“I’m going to see that guy I like,” she admitted and Mya raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Then why don’t you look thrilled?” She questioned and Sansa shrugged. 

 

“We’re fighting, and it’s not really all that great.” 

 

“That shit sucks. Why I don’t date,” Mya said wisely and Sansa gave her an amused look. 

 

“Just hookups?” 

 

“No feelings. Easier that way,” Mya reached out and touched Sansa’s arm before they reached her Jeep. “But don’t listen to me. My mother tells me I have a heart of stone.” 

 

“You do not,” Sansa protested and Mya laughed. 

 

“You’re too happy to have anyone mad at you for long, and too cute to boot,” Mya kissed Sansa’s cheek. 

 

“Have a good night, Miss Mya,” Sansa called, as Mya went towards her bike. She waved over her shoulder and Sansa climbed in, her mood considerably lighter. Her drive over to Sandor’s apartment was hindered a bit by traffic, so she sent him a text, and warned him as well that she was coming from practice, so she might need a shower. His reply was a short confirmation, and when she pulled up into the parking ramp, Sandor buzzed her up. 

 

She knocked, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, waiting for him. Some of her righteous anger had returned, and she was hangry now as well. But mostly, she was filled with the same nerves she always had with Sandor. Her stomach flipped and twisted in a different rhythm each moment, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard the lock being undone and it opened. 

 

Sandor stood before her, hair pulled back, in shorts and a tee-shirt, a spatula in one hand. Sansa looked him up and down before she could help herself, trying to guess what mood he was in, before stopping when she realized what it must look like to him. She gave him a unsure smile, and he nodded, stepping aside to let her in. 

 

“How was practice?” He asked her, after a minute of silence passed. 

 

“Rough, actually,” she said, letting her bag drop to the floor. “I, uh, probably smell dreadful.” 

 

“Not at all,” he said, after a pause, then seemingly remembered the spatula and headed for the kitchen. “If you want to rinse off, this is almost done.” 

 

“What is it?” Sansa asked, rummaging through her bag for her change of clothes. 

 

“Pasta primavera,” he informed her and she looked up, pleasantly surprised. “I even went and got vegetables at the co-op.”

 

“Nice,” Sansa said, surprised, clutching her clothes. Sandor gave her a little nod, and she went for the bathroom, easing the door shut and locking it. Feeling like she was doing something a bit scandalous, Sansa slipped out of her practice clothes, throwing them into a pile before easing into the massive shower. The shower head was high above her, and a giggle slipped out at the idea of Sandor showering someplace too short for him. After a confusing battle with the hot and cold, Sansa prevailed and stepped under the stream of warm water. 

 

She rinsed off, shaking the water droplets from her face and running her fingers through her hair. The shower was as utilitarian as the rest of the bathroom, but Sansa had came prepared. She’d stolen the travel sized shampoo and conditioner that Margaery had multiples of, plus a small amount of her expensive body wash. She showered quickly, and stepped out onto the black rug. 

 

Sandor had left a plush towel out for her and she wrapped herself in it, surprised that he would splurge on such an item. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she had an idea of why he might have needed to; the towel was closer to blanket sized on her, so it must be normal on him. She dried off, firmly telling herself not to think about a naked Sandor doing the same thing in this very space. She pulled on her clothes, shook out her hair, hung the towel up nicely, and walked back out into the living room. 

 

“It’s almost ready, we can—“ Sandor trailed off when he looked up to see her. Sansa, still trying to detangle her hair with her fingers, gave him a little smile. 

 

“It smells great,” she said softly and he finished setting the garlic bread down in the middle of the table. The pasta was already done in a large pan, and two plates sat opposite the other. Sansa looked up at him, and he grabbed the bottle of wine on the countertop, almost as an afterthought. 

 

“Here, sit,” he offered, pulling her chair out for her and Sansa sank down slowly. He took up his place across from her, and they dished up the pasta, cut the bread, and poured the wine in relative silence. Sansa took a sip to steady her nerves first, then took a bite of the pasta. 

 

“This is amazing,” she told him, eyes wide. The pasta was still hot, and she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to discretely exhale the heat. But the sauce was creamy, the vegetables firm and seasoned, and the pasta al dente. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” 

 

“The team has a private chef, you know,” he explained, spreading his own pasta out so that it would cool faster. “I liked to stay and talk to him, after.” 

 

“It’s amazing,” Sandor muttered, shaking her head. “You outdo half the places here.” 

 

“If the hockey thing doesn’t work out, I’ll put my application in at Olive Garden,” Sandor quipped and Sansa did her best to give him a stern look. She was annoyed, mostly at herself, at how easy it seemed for them to slip back into intimacy. She kept reminding herself that she was angry with him, but with every bite of his pasta and every little smile he sent her way, her fury dissipated. Before long, a true conversation was underway.

 

“—And that’s why whenever we go up north, Arya has to drive separate from Rickon,” Sansa ended her story by taking a sip of wine, and Sandor was leaning back in his chair, amusement in his eyes. 

 

“Is it wrong to say that no part of that surprised me?” He asked, eyes on her, and Sansa laughed, shrugging. 

 

“Most people that have met those two understand. And anyone who’s met my entire family understands why we have to take two cars in the first place,” she added, chuckling. 

 

“There’s only what, 15 of you?” Sandor mocked gently and Sansa stuck her tongue out. 

 

“Counting parents, there’s only nine.” 

 

“Why?” Sandor shook his head. “Why would your parents do that to themselves?” 

 

“My mom always wanted a big ol’ Catholic family,” Sansa explained and Sandor’s head tilted slightly. 

 

“I didn’t picture you being Catholic,” he said quietly and Sansa’s hand almost went to her neck, to the missing cross necklace that she’d worn for most of her life, before it dropped back down. She didn’t wear that anymore.

 

“I was more religious as a kid,” she said softly, “but then after everything that happened my freshman year, it was really hard to go to church, to hear about honor, obey, all that shit. My dad basically just worships nature, so that became a little more appealing.”

 

“What happened your freshman year?” Sandor asked her, and though his voice was gentle and soft, Sansa’s hands tightened on her wine glass almost unconsciously. 

 

“I….” she trailed off, trying to get the right words out. The words that wouldn’t make her seem broken, or stupid, or vapid, or all the things that she didn’t want Sandor thinking she was. “I made a bad choice.” 

 

“Him hitting you wasn’t your choice, and it wasn’t your fucking fault,” Sandor told her, but Sansa could hardly see him past the tears that were gathering, unbidden, in her eyes now. 

 

“I thought he was — I thought that — It was so stupid of me —“

 

“Sansa, enough,” Sandor had crossed the distance to her, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. Sansa held onto him blindly. “You got tricked by him, same as everyone else here. That doesn’t mean that you were stupid for it.” 

 

“I should have known. I should have known better, I should have seen it,” Sansa was trying to explain it to him, trying to explain why she felt so much guilt over it, but Sandor was shaking his head and pulling her close. 

 

“Not your fault. Never your fault.” 

 

“And that’s why I went crazy, that’s why I got so mad,” Sansa blabbered on. “I know you’re nothing like him, really, but I just got this idea that you didn’t want me and that you were cheating, and I got so mad, and it’s just because we hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you didn’t even care—”

 

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa, no,” Sandor cut her off, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “That’s what you thought? That’s why we’re fighting?” 

 

“What did you think it was?” Sansa asked him and Sandor’s face shifted from one of concern for her to that of a sheepish boy. He bit his lip, and let go of her face so that he could run a hand through his hair. 

 

“I don’t know, I….” he trailed off. 

 

“What did you think?” Sansa repeated, as Sandor tried to busy himself with cleaning off the table. Sansa folded her arms, refusing to budge an inch. 

 

“I would never cheat on you,” Sandor declared, instead of answering and Sansa’s heart flipped over, even as she asked, rather cooly, 

 

“Are we even dating?” 

 

“Are we?” Sandor looked up, a plate in each hand, forks and knives balanced on top of them. His face was unreadable, but his grey eyes were hard. Sansa uncrossed her arms, reaching for the pan in the middle. She was the one off balance now, when he suddenly threw things back at her. Joffrey had always made all the decisions in their relationship; where they went to eat, which parties they attended, what she wore, who she was allowed to talk to. She’d never had a choice, and he always preferred her without an opinion. 

 

“I thought that….” she took a deep breath, remembering a promise she’d made herself before she’d studied abroad. No more denying herself what she wanted. “I want us to. I guess I thought we maybe were.” 

 

“Well, good then,” Sandor grumbled, turning to the dishwasher. 

 

“Did you?” Sansa demanded, bringing the pot to the sink so that it could soak. 

 

“Fuck Sansa,” he said, exasperated. “I thought we were from the second you kissed me on the steps by the river.” 

 

“Oh,” she squeaked, turning on hot water. Sandor straightened up, looking at her with the same expression he’d had the night she’d thought it would get past kissing. She gripped the countertop for balance, and was grateful for it when he bent down to kiss her, fingers going into her hair. 

 

He kissed her like he was trying to take the very air from her lungs. He tugged at her hair, pulling her close so that one hand could go to her lower back. Sansa pressed herself to him, feeling like she was soaring. All her doubts, worries, and anger was left behind by the time he was drawing her towards the living room. The rest of the dishes, the garlic bread, the wine, was forgotten as he guided her down. 

 

Sansa kept kissing him, the weeks away from him ebbing away until she was left with nothing but bliss. Kissing him was plain and simple the best thing to happen to her, and she let herself get lost in it, and in him. His muscled arms around her, pulling her tight to him. His board shoulders. His hands, rough from years of handling a stick, catching strands of her hair. And his lips, half soft, the other half puckered from his scar. Sansa didn’t care. It all added up to Sandor, her Sandor. 

 

“So what do I call you then?” He muttered, when he leaned back so that they could both try to catch their breath. 

 

“Uh, girlfriend?” Sansa suggested, trying to get her bearings again. Sandor usually left her a little dizzy. 

 

“Girlfriend,” Sandor said the word with mild distaste, and Sansa looked up at her, affronted. “Seems…. Juvenile.” 

 

“You could call me bae, that’s much more dignified,” Sansa giggled and he gave her a stern look. 

 

“Alright, girlfriend.” 

 

“Then as your girlfriend,” Sansa’s stomach flipped at the very thought, “I have some requests.” 

 

“Oh fuck,” Sandor pretended to sigh heavily as he pulled her onto his lap, Sansa giggling all the while. “Let’s hear them then.” 

 

“The reason why I got so upset was because I didn’t feel like you cared about me,” Sansa admitted and then shushed Sandor before he could open his mouth to protest. “Hush! I know. I know. But when you don’t text me or call me or make an effort to see me, it feels like you don’t care.” 

 

“I do care,” he assured her, looking rather uncomfortable. “I care a lot about you.” 

 

“I know that, now,” Sansa told him, reaching down and picking up one of his large hands so that she could trace the lines and whorls in his palm. “But when you go weeks without so much as a hey or hi, it feels shitty.” 

 

“It’s just a lot, now that we’re in season,” he tried to explain, but Sansa shook her head. 

 

“In the time it takes you to take a morning shit, you can send me a message saying good morning,” she said flatly and he snorted. “That being busy thing is bullshit. We don’t have to talk all day or whatever. But it’s like you don’t even think about me at all during a day.” 

 

“I think about you,” Sandor insisted and Sansa looked at him, eyebrow raised. “I wonder what you’re doing. Where you’re at. If it’s a good day or a bad one.” 

 

“Why don’t you text me then?” Sansa implored and he stared at his feet, the floor, the TV, anywhere but her face. Sansa squeezed his hand. 

 

“It’s been a long time….” Sandor clearly was struggling with the words. “I haven’t had anyone to…. I’m not use to having someone to check in with.” 

 

“You don’t have to check in with me,” Sansa informed him, slightly resentful that he was implying she was nothing more than his babysitter. 

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Sandor said, with frustration. “I meant I’m not good at talking to people. A lot. I’ve been on my own for a long time, and having someone who cares, who wants to talk? Not something I’ve ever really had.” 

 

“Oh,” Sansa stopped instantly, taken aback. She couldn’t comprehend not having the compulsive need to check her phone; she could hardly keep up with her family’s group message, coupled with that of the dance team, sorority sisters, group project members, emails from professors, and social media notifications. She looked around at his sparse apartment, without any personal touches of friends or family, and a sadness so profound it ached cracked her heart in two. 

 

“So I apologize if I’m shit at it,” Sandor mumbled and Sansa turned back to him, reaching up to catch his scared cheek, turning him so he looked back at her. 

 

“That is not it,” she told him eagerly. “I thought you were ignoring me because you didn’t like me. That’s how guys usually are, you know.” 

 

“And am I just any guy?” He remarked and Sansa opened her mouth to protest, furiously, that he was so special to her before she realized he was kidding. She shut her mouth, a small smile on her face. 

 

“Alright then,” she said quietly. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t assume you’re an asshole like most guys anymore, and you’ll text me at least once a day. How’s that sound?”

 

“I want to add something else,” Sandor declared and Sansa sat back, pretending to be skeptical. “We plan date nights as far in advance as we need to, and you admit that the prick Joffrey is a vicious little cunt and that anything that happened to you was not your fault.” 

 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Sansa whispered, her heart clenching. “I know it wasn’t, but if I—”

 

“No,” Sandor said firmly, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Say it right.”

 

“He was a cunt, and it wasn’t my fault,” Sansa brought him in to kiss her again. Kissing Sandor made her forget all about Joffrey, and his violence, and the fact that some days she wanted nothing more than to travel back in time and rage at freshman Sansa to open her eyes and just see what was in front of her. 

 

“That’s my girl,” Sandor muttered, and kept kissing her until it wasn’t the wine that she was drunk on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so y'all can't even be mad, see??
> 
> anyways minnesota is extra glum today so i am going to go shop for plants and be joyful for your reviews. 
> 
> love love love love love


	13. Wild Hockey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright my darling dears, this chapter is as minnesotan as it gets. i mean real minnesota. the real deal. 
> 
> so plz reference the glossary at the end of the chapter and feel free to ask me what stuff means bc i just assume that people know what hockey is like and i forget that it is not ingrained in all of you but i tried to convey how much fun it is at the X during a Wild came and i would 10/10 recommend to anyone 
> 
> without further ado enjoy the next installment 
> 
> aaaaaand know that the rating is going up next chapter whoops

“HONEY!” Margaery’s yell went through the whole apartment.

 

“What?” Sansa yelled back, sitting at her desk with her computer, diligently working on a paper she had no interest in doing.

 

“Where’s my gopheralls?”

 

“What?” Sansa yelled again.

 

“Where! Are! My! Gopheralls!”

 

“I, uh, put them away,” Sansa grinned, leaning back from her computer.

 

“Where?” It sounded like Margaery was overturning the couch.

 

“Why do you need to know?” Sansa sassed.

 

“I need them!” Margaery appeared in her doorway, grinning. She was mostly naked, with only a gold sports bra and a thong on. Her hair and makeup was already done, and she had gold and maroon glitter highlighting her cheek bones and clavicles. “Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?”

 

“I have to finish this paper,” Sansa reminded her, opening her dresser drawer and pulling out her own maroon and gold overalls for Margaery. She knew better than to assume they’d ever find her roommate’s own pair. Margaery kissed her on the cheek, pulling them on. “And put a coat on, you’ll freeze going over to the pavilion.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s always so hot in there,” Margaery complained, rummaging through Sansa’s stuff to find deodorant.

 

“No, you just jump around during volleyball so much you overheat,” Sansa corrected.

 

“It’s my second love, after dance,” Margaery reminded her, critically examining her makeup before standing up, satisfied. “I use to be those girls out there in spandex, smacking balls.”

 

“Why are you the way you are?” Sansa rolled her eyes and Margaery laughed, grabbing one of Sansa’s jackets.

 

“Have fun with your paper!” Margaery was out the door, leaving behind nothing but the scent of roses and jasmine.

 

“I am your wife. I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get,” Sansa muttered under her breath, finishing the scene herself with a smile, before sitting back down for her paper. She was trying to find a good source to back up her assertion that the colonization of South American directly contributed to the demise of native feminist culture when a new message popped up in the corner of her screen.

 

**Guess what**

 

_What?_

 

**Guess what I don’t have next Friday**

 

_Don’t have? Uh, plans?_

 

**No, I have those.**

 

_Care to share?_

 

**No first tell me what I’m not doing Friday night**

 

_Oh hold on_

_You’re not coaching a hockey game Friday are you?_

 

**Good guess little bird**

 

_So then what are your plans?_

 

**Attachment: 1 image**

 

_Are those Wild tickets?!_

 

**On the glass.**

 

_Rickon would shit a brick._

 

**I’d take him but I’d rather take you.**

 

_Well aren’t you sweet!_

 

**Coming?**

 

_I’ll have to play hooky from some things, so it depends who they play._

 

**Caps.**

 

_Tom Wilson? I’m in._

 

**Oh, don’t be one of those.**

 

_I have no idea to what you’re referring._

 

**Girls like the pretty boys.**

 

_I don’t like him cause he’s pretty. I like him because he’s a long haired, big ass enforcer who’ll knock your teeth out. Sound familiar?_

 

**Trading me in for a younger model then.**

 

_No, I like a little bit of experience._

 

**Then I’m your man.**

 

_That you are, Sandor Clegane._

 

“Sansa?” Jeyne called, the door to the apartment slamming shut. “Are you home?”

 

“My room,” Sansa replied and after a minute, Jeyne stuck her head around the doorframe.

 

“Are you not going tonight then?” She asked and Sansa pushed back slightly so that Jeyne could see the word document on her computer. “Oh. Homework time then.”

 

“Sadly, yes,” Sansa looked Jeyne up and down, noting the lack of Gopher attire. “Are you not going either?”

 

“I don’t even like volleyball,” Jeyne tried to deflect and Sansa narrowed an eyebrow. “And I’m going to Beric’s.”

 

“How is that going?” Sansa asked curiously and Jeyne hesitated, biting her lip.

 

“It’s good, I think. It’s just, I’ve never really met anyone like him.”

 

“How so?” Sansa knew of Beric’s legend better than she knew the man himself, but she’d always thought he and Jeyne would make a good match.

 

“I’ve never met anyone quite so willing to…. Die,” Jeyne said dramatically and Sansa started.

 

“What?”

 

“Not in a bad way,” Jeyne corrected hastily. “Just, like, he’s fearless. He’ll do anything. Half the time we’re together, I’m convinced he’s going to jump off a bridge or try to climb to the top of the Foshey or go streaking down I-35.”

 

“Isn’t that fun and exciting?” Sansa questioned, though she knew full well that Jeyne, while full of romantic ideas, was more reserved than Beric.

 

“Sure,” Jeyne said, drawing the word out slowly. “But it’s just like…. I don’t quite know if I’m his girl. Like, who’s to say that he doesn’t want someone who’s down to trip on acid or go for a nighttime helicopter ride?”

 

“Well has he said that he likes you?” Sansa asked sagely and Jeyne nodded, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “But what? Why that face?”

 

“Have you and Clegane done anything yet?” Jeyne blurted out and Sansa went still, unsure if she was going to blush or laugh.

 

“Meaning?” She prodded, though she knew full well what Jeyne meant and was rewarded when Jeyne groaned dramatically and threw herself down on Sansa’s bed.

 

“You know! Sexual stuff!”

 

“Uh, no,” Sansa admitted. “But it’s not for lack of wanting to, on both our parts I think. It’s just, you know how I got, after Joffrey.”

 

“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Jeyne said, with the right amount of understanding. “I think it’s good that he’s wiling to wait for you, until you’re comfortable.”

 

“So I take it you and Beric have no done anything of that sort,” Sansa replied, determinedly repressing all memories of Joffrey and freshman year once more.

 

“No and I’m confused as to why,” Jeyne muttered. “I mean, I think he wants to fuck. I’d want to fuck me. Would you fuck me?”

 

“Indeed I would,” Sansa promised, grinning. “Maybe he’s just shy. Or he’s got a gnarly skin tag down there, or some rash. Wrestlers are always picking that shit up.”

 

“Honestly, they are,” Jeyne agreed with a shiver, “but I think it’s more than that. We’ve done hand stuff and whatever, but not the full monty.”

 

“Not how you use that phrase,” Sansa told her, since her father was a movie buff and had shown his children films that were not age appropriate, but Jeyne ignored her.

 

“And so you know, I just wanted to know, because this is college. Statistically, we should be fucking everyone.”

 

“Let’s not,” Sansa said dryly. “How about we focus on the ones we want to fuck?”

 

“Fair enough,” Jeyne said moodily, gazing at Sansa’s closet. “When do you think you will fuck Sandor?”

 

“When the time is right,” Sansa turned back to her paper, done with distractions for the night. “And the same with you and Beric. Just don’t force it.”

 

“Yes, oh sage goddess of sexing.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa turned down all plans for Friday and also Saturday morning as the week drug on slowly. Mel pushed practice back so that they could sleep in since the football team was away, and so Sansa had a pocket of time in the morning that she was safeguarding. She’d been giving more thought to Jeyne’s words than she cared to admit, leading to a lot more blushing than usual.

 

She did want to have sex with Sandor. The very idea of what it would be like was enough to make her feel like she needed a cold shower. And she knew Sandor wanted her. She saw it in his eyes, and the night of Halloween when she’d sent him a picture of her skintight costume, he’d responded with something so dirty she’d hid in the bar bathroom for five minutes just to get a grip on herself.

 

She had her mind made up the morning she woke up on Friday with a dull ache between her legs from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. She was going to have sex with Sandor that night, and she was fully ready for it. All that remained was to remove every folicial of hair from her body not atop her head or in her eyebrows. She even ducked out of practice a little early instead of hanging around with everyone so that she could be in the shower first and take her time shaving.

 

“Where are you going?” Margaery demanded, as Sansa raced around the apartment, trying to find where her Converse sneakers had gotten to.

 

“Wild game,” she explained, lifting the loveseat cushion and finding one. “Where’s the other of this?”

 

“Uh, probably in the pots and pans cabinet,” Margaery answered and when Sansa gave her a skeptical look, admitted, “I was trying to clean up!”

 

“Just throw them into my room next time,” Sansa ordered, going to the kitchen and yanking a cabinet open. Her shoe was indeed where Margaery had said it would be.

 

“Are you coming back tonight or staying at Robb’s?” Margaery asked, and Sansa didn’t bother to correct her.

 

“Staying over.”

 

“Great, then I can have friends over,” Margaery said with satisfaction and Sansa made a mental note to lock her door tightly before she left.

 

“Don’t destroy the place,” Sansa begged and Margaery waved a hand.

 

“I would never!”

 

“Liar,” Sansa muttered, pulling her shoes on. She was wearing a jersey she’d gotten as a birthday present from Rickon last year, the Stadium Series jersey for her favorite player, Mikael Granlund. She’d thrown on black leggings and her white Converse, despite that it was suppose to snow, since she wasn’t sure she wanted to prove Sandor right on the whole basic white girl Uggs combo.

 

She threw pajamas into her bag, along with a toothbrush and an outfit for tomorrow. A small bag meant that she could shove it in her purse and thus avoid Margaery’s detection. She shouldn’t have been worried; Margaery was completely distracted by her phone, already party planning.

 

“Have fun!” She yelled vaguely when Sansa grabbed her keys.

 

“Behave,” Sansa called back and heard Margaery laugh. Shaking her head, she dashed for her Jeep. If she hurried, they’d have enough time to do drinks before the game started.

 

The air outside was brisk; November had brought a bite with it, and Sansa was delighted. No matter the amount of teasing she gave Sandor, winter was her favorite season as well. It reminded her of high school dance competitions, and Christmas, and pond hockey. Her best memories. She smiled as she climbed into her Jeep, not in the least because tonight she was finally going to get laid.

 

She and Sandor were well established in their routine by now, where she would park and dash to the building, and he would let her in. Sansa had even started smiling and nodding to the neighbors she met on her way to and from Sandor apartment, and they mostly smiled back, albeit a bit confused. Tonight, she gave a little wave to the couple that was leaving, and they waved back. She bounced up to Sandor’s door, knocking twice.

 

“It’s open,” he called, so she let herself in, looking around to see where he was. The door to his bedroom was ajar, so Sansa discreetly set her overnight bag down beside the couch, before going to see what he was doing.

 

“Safe to look?” She asked, knocking on the frame of his bedroom door with her eyes shut.

 

“I’m almost ready to go,” Sandor informed her with amusement so Sansa opened her eyes. Indeed he was just brushing through his hair, and Sansa grinned as she saw him pull it up into the half bun she liked so much.

 

“Waiting on you,” she teased and he tossed her a look.

 

“Someone’s eager,” he observed and she shrugged.

 

“What can I saw, I’m excited for Tom Wilson.” Sansa didn’t remind him that this was their first date, first serious date, that had occurred in public, and that her nerves were fizzing with anticipation at them being seen together. The Twin Cities were large, but not when she was Ned Stark’s daughter. She almost hoped word of tonight got back to her mother.

 

“Watch it,” Sandor growled, but in a good natured way. “Surprised you don’t have his jersey on. Who is it then?”

 

“Granny,” Sansa stated, giving a little half turn so he could see the large name and 64 on her back.

 

“I thought you liked the bruisers,” Sandor remarked, eyebrows raised.

 

“Just the one,” Sansa said cheekily and he snorted, finishing off his hair. He was wearing dark jeans and a white shirt, with a simple black jacket he pulled over it. Sansa wondered if he was opposed to wearing another team’s colors, or if he was embarrassed to own another player’s jersey.

 

“Do you need a jacket?” He questioned, zipping his own up part way and Sansa tossed him a look that clearly conveyed that her years of growing up in an arena and being exposed to Minnesota winters had rendered her quite capable of withstanding the cold during the walk to the arena. He chuckled and without another word, opened the door for her.

 

The way over to the arena, Sansa passionately debated her love of Moscow Mules with Sandor, who rolled his eyes every time she said the word ‘artisanal’. He found parking rather quickly, and after a brief detour to pay, they headed towards the Liffey for drinks. Sansa squeezed into the door, elbowing between two already drunk men, before they hastily moved upon sight of Sandor. From then on, Sansa let him be in charge of muscling them a place at the bar, where he ordered a beer for himself and, however begrudgingly, a Moscow Mule for her.

 

“See, try,” she insisted when she got the little copper cup and he sighed heavily, but took the straw in his mouth and drank. He let go slowly, looking surprised.

 

“It’s good,” he admitted and Sansa smirked, taking the straw and cup back.

 

“I have good tastes,” she declared and he smiled faintly, taking a sip of his beer.

 

“So do you go to games often?” He asked and Sansa shrugged, watching as a young couple across the way got into an argument, indifferent to everyone around them.

 

“When I was younger, yeah,” she told him. “We have season tickets, but Robb and dad use them to butter up clients mostly, or Rickon takes them. Arya sometimes, if she’s in the mood. But when I was a kid, we’d all come. We’d get food at Cossetta’s, and then we’d get gelato for the walk over. Once Robb and Theon and Jon were in high school though, they didn’t want their little sisters tagging along on dates and stuff.”

 

“I can’t imagine you were very helpful in wooing a girl,” Sandor said dryly and Sansa smacked his arm, affronted.

 

“Excuse you, I was excellent. Well behaved, mild mannered, they hardly knew I was there. It was Arya who was the terror; she never liked any of the girls they dated in high school.”

 

“Not even Talisa?” Sandor looked surprised.

 

“Talisa’s won everyone over,” Sansa clarified and Sandor looked amused.

 

“Except your mother.”

 

“You’d have to be Mother Teresa herself to win over my mom,” Sansa muttered and Sandor took a long drink of his beer before saying idly,

 

“So there’s no hope for me then?”

 

“Oh!” Sansa started, and nearly spilled some of her mule down on her jersey. “No — I — no, she — you—”

 

“Easy, little bird,” he laughed, “I was only kidding.”

 

“I have no idea what she’ll say,” Sansa said honestly, before hastily continuing with, “but we already know my dad likes you!”

 

“Good ol’ Ned,” Sandor seemed to agree, but Sansa was too busy trying to control the riot that had started in her stomach at his mention of impressing her mother to pay much attention otherwise.

 

After they’d both finished their drinks, there was just enough time to walk over, and detour at Cossetta’s to get gelato. Sansa distracted herself looking at the intricate cakes in the old Italian style bakery, and Sandor had to tug her along to join the crushing mass that was headed into the Excel Energy Center. Sansa let herself be buffeted slightly, but then Sandor’s large hand snaked around her waist and pulled her close.

 

By the time she’d finished her chocolate gelato, they were through the gates, around the busy concourse, and now walking down the steps to their seats. Sansa briefly felt pity for whoever sat behind them as Sandor squeezed into the seat with only a little bit of ill grace. The people next to them looked like they wanted to complain, but thought better of it. Sansa giggled, but when Sandor glanced at her, pretended to be very engrossed in watching the zamboni resurface.

 

The whole arena was packing in with people, and the general atmosphere was that of excitement. Sansa’s father had a box, so she’d never been this close to the glass before, and she leaned forward eagerly, waiting for the players to come back out. When the lights dimmed and the music peaked, she turned to Sandor and grinned, taking his hand.

 

“Thanks for bringing me,” she said quietly, barely over the noise of the crowd. Sandor just grinned back at her, and Sansa turned with a gasp as the Caps skated out onto the ice. Sandor snorted when she squeezed his hand at the sight of Tom Wilson in all his glory, but she was distracted almost immediately when the Wild came skating out.

 

“There’s your man,” Sandor said, when Granlund took a lap around the ice, intently focused and Sansa gave an over dramatic, dreamy sigh.

 

Sansa participated in all the cheesy cheers with gusto, clamping along and loudly chanting, “here we go Wild, here we go!” Sandor pointedly refused to do any of it, but she saw the little smile on his face when the puck dropped and they both watched the action. For the majority of the first period, there was nothing more exceptional than a few good saves by Minnesota’s goaltender that prompted the loud cheer of “Duubs!” and a few good saves from the Capital’s Holtby that prompted mostly groans.

 

“Shoot!” Sansa yelled, as Zach Parise tried to find an angle on the goal.

 

“That’s never helpful, you know,” Sandor informed her, and she turned to him with a grin.

 

“It’s more fun though.”

 

“Annoying,” Sandor corrected, as the buzzer sounded and they all clapped. “But I’ll still get you a drink.”

 

“Cause I’m cute?” Sansa teased and he kissed her head, chuckling.

 

“What’ll it be then, cutie?”

 

“Anything but beer,” she requested and he joined the crush of people heading up the steps. She sat back in her chair, grinning. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the notifications she’d missed. She had posted a photo on her Instagram story when Sandor had gone to the bathroom, of her Moscow Mule next to his beer, with the simple caption of ‘his and hers’. The group chat with her team had found it, and a through dissertation was happening.

 

**Shae Bae**

_Does she have her snap location on? What bar was it at?_

 

**Fellow Ging Captain Ygritte**

_No. She has nothing on. She’s like a damn ghost_

 

**YAYA**

_Who the fuck are you guys talking about?_

 

**Shae Bae**

_SANSA_

 

**Mother of Dragons**

_Leave her alone, if she’s getting some then we should be happy for her_

 

**Shae Bae**

_@jeyne STEAL HER GODDAMN PHONE_

 

**Jeyne from da block**

_You think we haven’t tried?!_

 

Sansa grinned, shaking her head. She felt a rush of affection for Jeyne, who always kept her secrets, but also a bit of guilt. She was lying to her teammates, and friends, as well as her family. She had always figured it was lying by omission, but it was beginning to feel more and more like outright lying. She was brooding on the difference when Sandor returned, with another beer for him, and a vodka red bull for her.

 

“No Moscow Mules here, little bird,” he informed her, sitting. She grinned, taking her cup anyways.

 

“This works fine,” she thanked him with a kiss to the cheek before they both watched the zamboni resurface. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned to him, asking, “Can you drive one of those?”

 

“Sure,” Sandor replied easily, taking a drink before setting his beer safely on the rim of the boards in front of them. “I was always doing stuff at the rink to help pay for my ice time. Setting up boards, cleaning toilets, sharpening skates, sorting out used gear, anything I could do. The manager there, he was a good guy. Buy me a cheeseburger after games if I scored.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa said quietly, thinking of what he’d said about Rickon, and the privilege she and her siblings had. Rickon never worried about paying for ice time, because their father could afford to buy the whole arena if he chose. It startled her to think of Sandor, small and hungry, playing for the chance of a meal.

 

“Besides,” Sandor added, like he could hear her thoughts, “if I was the one who resurfaced, I could usually be the first one out on the ice. Nothing like a fresh sheet with some sharp skates.”

 

“Is it different, being on this side of the glass now?” Sansa questioned, reaching out to touch the boards. Sandor made a face, shrugged, and was quiet, before he answered her, rather suddenly.

 

“I didn’t want to be done. No one every does. You don’t leave the game cause you’re sick of it, you know? You leave because your body can’t take it, or your mind, or your family, or whatever it is. But if I could, I would give everything to be back out there.”

 

“So what was it then?” Sansa asked softly and he looked at her. “What was it that made you stop?”

 

“Body,” he grunted, his hand going down to his left thigh automatically. “Took a bad hit to the leg, and I never came out the same after that. I was getting old, the game was moving on, it seemed as good a time as any. But you hate it, just a little bit, when you watch the other guys play.”

 

“I suppose it’ll be like that for me, when I come to football games and I’m not the girl on the sidelines anymore,” Sansa could already picture it, attending Gopher games as a normal person. It made her feel a bit hollow.

 

“Won’t you coach?” He asked her, and the surprise in his voice amused her, just slightly.

 

“Why does everyone think that?” She fired back and he stopped, actually pausing to think about it. Then he answered, carefully.

 

“Because you’re a good captain, and a good teacher. Stands to reason you’d coach.”

 

“In the future, maybe,” she relented. “But when I come out of school, I’m going to stay away for a couple years. It would be too weird coaching girls who were once my teammates.”

 

“That’s fair,” Sandor admitted, “I still don’t trust half to older guys to respect me.”

 

“Like Umber?” Sansa teased, playing with her straw and he gave her an appreciative look before the buzzing of her phone, left on the boards, distracted them both.

 

“And what’s that?” Sandor asked, with the air of someone who knew exactly what it was. Sansa blushed, glancing down at the message from Margaery that detailed exactly how Sansa had seemed after her last couple dates.

 

“Group chat,” Sansa told him and Sandor raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer while Sansa strove not to break down into giggles.

 

It was midway through the second period that the puck finally found the back of the net, off the stick of the Wild’s Nino. Sansa leapt out of her seat with a scream that was echoed a thousand times over the arena, nearly drowning out Prince as he sang about going nuts. Even Sandor was on his feet, clapping appreciatively. Completely forgetting that she had no idea if Sandor was comfortable with PDA or not, Sansa turned and kissed him full on the mouth, breathless. When she pulled away, he was grinning.

 

The Wild would score twice more, and the Capitals once, so that at the end of the game, the whole arena filtered out with the general air of happiness, most attendants drunk on overpriced beer and the win. Sansa made to turn for the exits before Sandor caught her hand, tugging her the opposite way. She looked up at him, bewildered, but he just smiled and shook his head, guiding her towards some stairs.

 

“Mr. Clegane,” said a security guard, bowing his head and moving aside when they made to go down them. Sandor nodded back, and Sansa glanced around before asking,

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Be surprised for once,” Sandor told her cheekily, pulling her in to kiss her head. Sansa was quiet, flushed with pleasure, waiting.

 

* * *

 

Caps - Washington Capitals, professional hockey team in Washington D.C.

Tom Wilson - an incredible handsome hockey player AND I KNOW HE HITS PEOPLE REALLY HARD OK I DON'T CARE I LOVE HIM

Gopheralls - maroon and gold striped overalls. Essential game day attire. 

Foshey - Foshey Tower in downtown Minneapolis, previously the tallest building in the state! 

Full monty - just go watch the film please it's scottish and excellent

Stadium Series - when a professional hockey game is played outside in the winter. We killed the Blackhawks at TCF field and it was the best day of my life (i have seven nieces and nephews and am engaged BUT I SAID WHAT I SAID)

Mikael Granlund - 64 on the Minnesota Wild, embodiment of the Finnish Flow, and love of my life

Uggs - ugg boots are the shit. MINE ARE MISSING AND AS A MINNESOTA WHITE GIRL THIS IS A CODE RED CRISIS

Liffey - irish bar near the Excel Energy Center!

Cossettas - tbh don't even know how to describe. Massive Italian kitchen with a bakery attached older than the cities themselves. Everyone and their grandma eats there before games! 

Duubs - our main goalie is Devan Dubnyk, and whenever he saves a puck, we yell "duuuuuuuuuubs!" which sounds like we are booing him but we are not. also he's like 6'7 and a giant teddy bear who loves his kids and i adore him

Ice time - parents have to pay to use the ice for kids practice time (at least where i'm from) which can make it difficult for impoverished families to afford hockey. an example of all the little fees that add up!!

Nino - Nino Niederreiter, 22 for the Minnesota Wild, and known by his first name only because his last name is a bitch to spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok for any of you sticklers out there
> 
> I KNOW WE CHANGED OUR GOAL SONG OK. I KNOW IT'S NOT PRINCE ANYMORE. BUT THAT DECISION WAS WRONG AND I PROTEST IT. 
> 
> hope you all enjoyed if it made no sense feel to tell me via reviews also ten points if you know what movie i reference in the beginning which you all should it is a classic
> 
> and come back next week for more hockey babbling and..... things. (spoilers!!!!)


	14. The Artist Formerly Known As Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all just a heads up that my family is Going Through It currently - concussion! broken ankle and ribs! mild heart attack! my sister got hit by a car! so if i am slow to post, reply to reviews, etc my most sincere apologies, you rock my world and this story is extremely important to me!!!
> 
> so without further ado - we just got our first true snowfall yesterday, so this chapter feels right on track. Here's to hoping it warms your Saturday up....
> 
> (and yes, we minnesotans get to claim Prince, may he rest in power. is there better babymaking music?)

“Who are we going to see?” Sansa questioned, as they made their way deeper into the labyrinth that was the lower bowels of the arena. 

 

“That’ll ruin the surprise,” Sandor said patiently, and Sansa briefly thought it over.

 

“Why are we going this way?” She tried and he chuckled, opening a heavy door for her and ushering her through.

 

“Still counts, little bird.”

 

“Give me one hint,” she begged, and he waggled his eyebrows, putting his hand at the small of her back.

 

“Enjoy the surprise,” he repeated, and she huffed, stomping her feet twice for effect before keeping pace with him. After a couple long moments, once they’d rounded a corner, Sansa nearly stopped dead in her tracks. Ahead was the Wild’s locker room, and media people were filtering out, no one taking notice of them. Sansa gripped his hand tightly.

 

“Wait,” something occurred to her, and she turned to look up at him. He pretended to avoid her eyes, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “So remember when you said you were playing a pick up game? With some guys?”

 

“Yeah?” He scratched his nose, unbothered.

 

“Was that…” Sansa gestured to the door.

 

“I train some of them in the offseason,” Sandor said modestly. “I keep up my game, they keep up their game. Win-win.”

 

“Who?” Sansa squeaked, but he pretended not to hear her.

 

“Think Rickon would be jealous of you?” He pretended to be deep in thought.

 

“I think he’d kill to be me,” Sansa snorted. They fell into discussing Rickon’s reaction to various players, until the doors opening and those players began spilling out. Sansa promptly shut up, staring in astonishment as the men she frequently saw on TV and at a distance, now up close and personal. Some of them nodded to Sandor, and a few gave her curious looks.

 

“Ay, Clegane!” Matt Dumba, Sansa’s second favorite Wild player, strode out of the locker room with a swagger and a grin, and Sandor raised a hand in acknowledgement. Sansa gaped, unable to comprehend anything that was happening. “I hope you liked those tickets.”

 

“They were great, thanks man,” Sandor shook his hand, then turned to gesture to Sansa. “This is my girlfriend, Sansa Stark.”

 

“Hi,” Sansa managed, breathless, shaking his hand and hoping that she didn’t seem too flustered. “I — It’s — Nice to meet you.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” Dumba said warmly, releasing her hand and turning to Sandor. “What’s a girl like this doing with a bum like you?”

 

“I ask myself that,” Sandor chuckled, and Sansa’s whole body went warm.

 

“Hey coach,” another player called, and Sansa recognized some of them as former Gopher players, now young guys jostling for a spot on the roster. She stayed mostly quiet, well trained by her mother to simply smile and be an accessory to the male in this situation, but Sandor wasn’t having that. He introduced her to everyone, and when they finally said their goodbyes, he made sure Sansa had a moment to shake hands with everyone.

 

“That was amazing,” Sansa said reverently when they left, using back doors and hallways to gradually ascend back to street level. Sandor chuckled, his thumb gently rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. “I mean, like amazing, amazing. Zach-fucking-Parise knows your name.”

 

“He knows yours now too,” Sandor reminded her calmly and Sansa gasped.

 

“If he ever mentions needing a babysitter, you give him my number Sandor Clegane. You give it to him!”

 

“Noted,” Sandor said dryly, opening the last door for her to the lobby. Any other demands Sansa had of him flew out of her mouth at the sight through the massive floor to ceiling windows. Outside, drifting lazily through the lights of the streetlights and buildings, were white, fluffy flakes. Winter had finally arrived to the cities. Sansa gasped, running for the windows.

 

“It’s snowing!”

 

“About time,” Sandor remarked, “it’s November.”

 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Sansa tugged insistently on his hand and he raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s the first snow!”

 

“And what about it?” Sandor forced her to half drag him towards the doors, looking like it wasn’t bothering him in the slightest.

 

“It’s lucky!” Sansa insisted. “Dad always said that the first snow was important, and if you caught a flake on your tongue during the first snow, you’d have good luck all winter long.”

 

“Ned Stark,” Sandor muttered, shaking his head, but Sansa finally pulled his through the doors and out onto the street, where they were hit with the chilly air. Sandor went to pull Sansa in to protect her from the biting wind, but Sansa laughed aloud and spun away from him.

 

“I love being cold,” she explained to him, as he reached for her. “It’s so much better than being hot, I think.”

 

“You’re going to get chilled,” Sandor reminded her, and Sansa only laughed, spread her arms wide and spinning wildly.

 

“It’s snowing, it’s snowing, it’s snowing—”

 

“Alright, enough,” Sandor caught her hand and stopped her. She turned with a grin, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You’re not catching any snowflakes,” she reminded him, tossing her head back and closing her eyes, sticking her tongue out. “Ith — fur— dudh -- duck!” But when she opened her eyes and lifted her head, Sandor wasn’t trying to catch snowflakes; he was watching her with an expression that so full of tender adoration that Sansa nearly forgot what she was doing.

 

“I make my own luck,” Sandor murmured quietly, sliding his hand into her hair and bringing her lips up to his. There, on the side of the road, amidst the first snowfall of the year, Sandor Clegane kissed Sansa Stark as though the rest of the world had faded away, and it was only them in the middle of the storm.

 

Sansa pulled away first, needing a bit of air and a chance to center herself again, when everything about Sandor threw her off balance. She looked up at him, a shy smile crossing her face as she remembered her decision about tonight. Sandor was gazing down at her quizzically, clearly wondering what she was thinking.

 

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, squeezing his hand and for a second he seemed poised to say something before swallowing and nodding, reaching down for one last kiss. Sansa obliged and this time when they broke apart, pushed the cold tip of her nose into his cheek.

 

“I thought the cold didn’t bother you,” he rumbled with amusement and Sansa kissed his ear lobe, laughing softly.

 

“Just my nose.”

 

“Alright then, hurry back to the car,” he ordered and Sansa turned in the right direction, tilting her head back up to the sky to watch as the snowflakes drifted down towards her face.

 

“Don’t let me run into anything!”

 

“I might,” Sandor chuckled and she huffed loudly, before skipping ahead a few steps. Winter was her season. No need to worry about if her pale, fair skin would burn, or if she’d be too hot to fall asleep comfortably. She ascribed to her father’s belief that nature was magical and wonderful, and the first snow seemed to cleanse her, and make the whole world anew again. Perfect for tonight.

 

Delighted, and filled to bursting with the sort of happiness she couldn’t put a name on if she tried, Sansa did a little leap over a bit of frozen landscaping separating parking lot and sidewalk. When she heard Sandor’s snort of amusement behind her, she got brave, and did a bigger leap over a small bush, and then a full grand jete just because she could. When she nearly slipped on a patch of ice on her landing, Sandor shouted, but she’d already caught herself.

 

“Beauty and grace, remember?” She teased, as Sandor slowly pulled back the hand that he’d shot out to try and steady her.

 

“I’m the one who belongs on the ice,” he retorted, and swept her up into his arms. She laughed, pressing her face to the unburnt side of his face. For all the she said, it was rather cold out, and she was happy to have his warm self.

 

“You’d never let me fall,” she breathed into his ear and felt his grip tighten in response. There was safety here, in his arms, the kind she’d never quite known elsewhere.

 

He forced her to leave the heat on full blast when they got back to his truck, and to put her seat heater on as well. She complained, mostly to see him smile, and tucked her legs up under her, watching as the flakes hit his windshield and melted. Sandor kept glancing over at her, a smile on his face, and Sansa smiled back, humming in contentment.

 

When he pulled up to his apartment, her nerves were starting to set in. She twiddled her thumbs, fiddling with her purse and the loose threads on her jersey, kicking her heels together. Sandor simply held out his hand, forever calming her, and she took it. He kept her close on the walk up to his door, and when they entered, he immediately went to get them both a glass of wine. Sansa went to the window, looking out over the skyline. She hoped that the snow would stick through the night and that they’d wake up to the city blanketed in white.

 

“Here, little bird,” he kissed the top of her head as he passed her the wine, and she took it with a murmur of thanks. He watched the cityscape with her for a moment, taking a sip.

 

“Tonight was wonderful,” Sansa said quietly, and Sandor lowered the wine glass slowly, deliberately.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he stated, before his eyes slid to her and he added the next words like he knew exactly what was on her mind, “and it can be perfectly lovely just like this. I don’t want you doing anything you’re not ready for, Sansa.”

 

“No, that’s the thing,” she set her wine glass down so that she could take one of his large hands in her smaller ones. “I am ready. I want this, I want you. Just…. As long as we go slow….”

 

“You tell me when to stop,” Sandor ordered, searching her face and Sansa nodded, before he carefully lowered his head down to kiss her.

 

The first boy Sansa had ever had sex with was Joffrey. She’d keep herself pure in high school, just like all the church groups told her to be. She was modest, innocent, good. So she believed. But Joffrey had whined, and reminded her that there were always girls at parties and bars who would love to drop their skirts for a boy like him, and if he wasn’t getting any from Sansa, he’d get it elsewhere. Sansa had believed him, believed that she needed to keep him, and that this was simply what it took, to be together, to be happy.

 

Too much, too soon with Joffrey.

 

But the way Sandor was kissing her, tenderly, gently, was just right. His hands glided up her arms, before one rested on her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as the other fisted into her hair. Sansa stepped forward, pressing herself to him more firmly. Sandor bit her lip, just a short nip, but Sansa’s whole body tensed. Sandor jerked away. 

 

“It’s alright,” she reassured him instantly, cupping his face. “I liked it, really.”

 

“You tell me when to stop,” he told her, eyes searching her face and she nodded, taking a deep breath. She gently tugged him towards the bedroom, a little hesitantly that he would still back out, still not want her in that space, but after a moment he took over and opened the door.

 

The bedroom was just as they’d left it, with Sandor’s bed made neatly and everything else put away. Sandor kissed her again, slowly and sweetly, before pulling back with a smile that was almost shy. Sansa touched her lips, smiling back, and clumsily reached for the pillows, yanking them off the bed to give herself something to do. Sandor chuckled and helped, until they turned down the sheets.

 

“Your sheets are soft,” Sansa remarked, remembering the night she’d spent in his bed, alone, and very drunk. It reassured her now that they were both sober, and that Sandor seemed nearly as nervous as she was. He chuckled, reaching for her across the bed and she knelt, making him meet her in the middle. They sank, a little awkwardly, down until they were reclining, Sandor against the headboard. Sansa lay on his chest, kissing him.

 

He took a few minutes, letting her settle in again, hands running up and down her sides, adjusting her a little when he needed to. Sansa hesitantly slipped her hands up under his shirt and made a noise of surprise when she felt the hard planes of his abs. He smiled into her mouth and then in one fluid moment, pulled his shirt off. Sansa stopped in total surprise, staring down at his chest.

 

“I have tattoos,” he remarked, correctly interpreting the look of astonishment of her face.

 

“Not on your arms,” Sansa muttered, one finger tracing the designs. Spanning his chest was an intricate shield of sorts, except his carried the image of three dogs, an outline of Canada, coordinates, what looked like a stormy sky over a forest, and more. It was a little overwhelming, and Sansa wasn’t sure how she was going to take it all in.

 

“Haven’t had time to fill those in,” Sandor explained and Sansa bent down to kiss the dogs.

 

“I’m going to ask you what this all means, eventually,” she informed him seriously and he nodded, something darkening his eyes.

 

“Not now, I hope.”

 

“No, not now,” Sansa shook her head, reaching for the bottom of her jersey so she could pull it off and toss it aside, taking the long sleeve undershirt with it, until she was wearing her bra and leggings.She was about to be self conscious, except for the fact that Sandor groaned, lowly, and pulled her down to kiss him again.

 

“Sansa, I—” his voice was trembling as his hands rested on her hips. “I — if you want to stop — you —”

 

“I don’t,” she promised him once more, kissing him before hooking her fingers around his jeans. Sandor undid his zipper, and squirmed his hips until he was free. Sansa pretended to be occupied with pushing the jeans to the floor so that she could sneak a look at him - simple briefs that she knew were Lululemon from her years of doing her brothers’ laundry. He was clearly aroused, and her face flamed as she sat back up.

 

“Come here,” Sandor said quietly, once he saw her face and she scooted up until he could pull her into his lap. “Good?”

 

“Good,” she whispered back and he searched her face once again before he suddenly rolled her. Sansa gave a tiny shriek as she landed on her back, Sandor hovering over her. He grinned, kissing her forehead briefly before her nose, then her cheekbone, and going to bite her earlobe. When he moved down to her collarbone, then began to kiss his way down her stomach, Sansa went tense, knowing his intentions and somehow still surprised.

 

“Sansa,” he murmured huskily, mouth hovering over the waistband of her leggings, hands on hips. Sansa took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was Sandor, sweet, protective, sometimes mysterious Sandor. He’d never hurt her. He’d never laughed at her, or belittled her, or dismissed her.

 

She raised her hips and Sandor carefully pulled her leggings off until she was naked except for her bra, atop Sandor’s sheets. His gaze, hot and heavy, flickered up to her just once more, and when she gave a nod, he bent down between her legs. Sansa recalled what had been Joffrey’s clumsy attempts, usually ending with him calling her disgusting, and waited for something of the same nature from Sandor.

 

She gasped and her eyes nearly flew open when she first felt Sandor. He was soft, the pressure neither too direct or harsh. After a second, she realized how tightly she was holding herself and tried to relax slightly, letting the sensations wash over herself. Sandor was an expert, it seemed, and Sansa grasped the sheets in her hands.

 

It was a delicious feeling, Sandor’s tongue working back and forth. A delightful sort of pressure was building, and Sansa wasn’t thinking about if Joffrey had ever made her feel this way, or if any man had ever made her feel like this. All she could focus on was that Sandor was bringing her to the edge, and all she wanted was to tip over it and see what would happen then.

 

A single finger slipped into her, bending slightly, and she let out a sharp exhale, overwhelmed with the new sensation. Sandor paused, for just a moment, and Sansa keened, unaware that she was even doing so. All she knew was that under no circumstances did she want him to stop, not when there was something so wonderful just out of her reach. Sandor resumed, this time just a faster, his tongue flicking with gusto now as his finger slid back and forth. Sansa lifted her hips slightly, to get Sandor’s mouth in a better position, and just like that, something inside her released.

 

“Fuck!” she cried out, as pleasure of the most intense kind ripped through her. Her hips bucked but Sandor was holding her steady, letting her ride out the waves until she collapsed back onto the bed, the area of her hips feeling electric and weak, all at once. Sansa jerked a couple times as Sandor kissed her hip bones, and when he raised his eyes up to hers, there was true happiness there.

 

“You alright, little bird?” he asked, though Sansa was sure he already knew the answer.

 

“I— Thank you,” she blinked several times, trying to get her bearings back again. “I never — didn’t know — that—”

 

“God, I don’t deserve you,” Sandor muttered, and Sansa gaped at him, before deciding to show him just how wrong he was. Despite the fact that she still didn’t seem to have all the feeling or control back in her hips, Sansa pulled him down so she could kiss him once again, before rather clumsily pushing down his briefs. She was quite proud of herself for not making a sound of astonishment as his dick came free. For a moment, he fumbled with his bedside drawer but came back up with a condom that he slid on with ease.

 

“I want you,” she informed him, and he eased himself between her legs, lining up carefully.

 

“I’ll go slow,” he swore, and Sansa reached up so that her nails dug into his back. Sandor was good on his word, carefully and slowly pushing himself into her. Sansa recalled all the times she’d had sex with Joffrey, when he’d smirked and told her how tight she was, when it was so hard for him to get it fully. Sandor was far and wide larger than Joffrey, yet he didn’t seem to be encountering half the resistance Joffrey had, and for a second, Sansa panicked.

 

Then she remembered what Mya had explained to her, that being turned on and satisfied during sex was not something Joffrey had ever made a priority, and that she should never compare good sex to what she’d had with him. It was reassuring to think that she was enjoying herself in the way that all the other girls said sex could be enjoyable, and she relaxed, reaching up to run her fingers through Sandor’s hair.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, when he gave a tentative half thrust, as though seeking her permission to do anything more. Sansa wanted to give it to him, to tell him that all she felt right now was a delicious sense of fullness. “Yes, please.”

 

“Sansa—” every muscle in Sandor’s back was trembling, as she ran her hands over it. “If you do that again, I think I’ll fucking lose it.”

 

“What, when I beg?” Sansa’s mouth was slowly quirking up into a smirk. “Do you want me to beg? Say please?”

 

“Fuck,” Sandor’s whisper was strained and Sansa shifted, ever so slightly, so that her lips were just below his ear.

 

“Please, Sandor, please fuck me.”

 

“Goddamnit,” he groaned, pushing himself forward. Sansa braced herself almost unconsciously for any pain, but when none came, she tentatively tried to match his pace. She was trying to think of all the tips and tricks that she’d been given from Dany and Mya and Ros and everyone else on sex, on how to enjoy it and make sure he enjoyed it as well.

 

But the fact that Sandor was holding her close, one hand on her jaw so that he could see her, made her forget everything. She reached up as well, cupping his scarred cheek, and he closed his eyes briefly, as though her touch did something to him. Sansa stroked her thumb over the scar and he pressed his forehead to hers.

 

“You alright?” Sansa checked with him and he looked at her like he’d never quite seen her clearly.

 

“You are fucking amazing,” he stated and Sansa kissed his nose.

 

“I just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” she admitted and he exhaled out of his nose, hard.

 

“Little bird, I am literally holding back everything I can,” he informed her, an amused note running through his tone.

 

“You don’t have to,” Sansa informed him, feeling vaguely proud.

 

“I’m not done with you yet,”he growled and she gasped as he was suddenly pulling her to the edge of the bed. Sansa understood from his hands at her hips that he meant for her to flip over and so she did, bending over the bed with her ass in the air. Sandor was behind her in a second, fingers tangling into her hair. He slipped back in her quickly, and this time he was faster, with a rhythm she couldn’t match. She arched her back, and was rewarded when Sandor moaned aloud.

 

After a few more minutes, Sandor grunted and his grip on her hips tightened, before he slowed and finally stopped. After a second, he bent over her back and kissed between her shoulder blades. Seemingly unsatisfied with that, he waited until she’d straightened up and turned around to kiss her again, this time sweetly on the mouth.

 

“I, uh, thanks,” Sansa stated, unsure of what to do now that they were both naked and post sex. She thought of Margaery’s tip, to always go to the bathroom right after, and excused herself, grabbing Sandor’s discarded shirt as she headed for the bathroom. She locked the door shut behind her, then went to go stare at herself in the mirror, astonishingly calm for what had just transpired.

 

She didn’t look any different, for the most part. Same red hair, if not mussed now. Same pale skin, though it was flushed and her lips extra pouty. She pulled Sandor’s shirt on and went to go to the bathroom, musing about what Jeyne would do when Sansa told her that she’d slept with Sandor. Sansa knew she would be something like panicking or laughing, perhaps both at once.

 

“Sansa?” Sandor knocked on the door when the toilet flushed. “Would you, want to, uh, maybe…. Shower?”

 

“Shower?” Sansa opened the door, looking up at him. He was still naked and grinning, a little embarrassed. “Together?”

 

“Sure,” Sandor eased past her and towards the large shower. “I figured you’d want to, and then bed, if you want to stay. If you don’t, I can give you a ride back, that’s not a big deal at all or anything, I—”

 

“Don,’t worry,” she patted his cheek, “I packed an overnight bag. I sort of hoped this would happen.”

 

“Good,” Sandor looked relieved, as he turned the shower on. Sansa shed his shirt again, and stepped under the warm stream of water. After a second, Sandor joined. She turned her face up under the water, smiling slightly. The warmth felt good, and when Sandor put his arms around her, she kissed his cheek.

 

“This is nice,” she muttered happily and he chuckled, cupping his hands so that the water was caught in his hands briefly before splashing it over his face.

 

“If I had known all it would take was Matt Dumba, I’d have taken you to my workouts ages ago,” he teased and Sansa pushed him with one hand.

 

“I will have you know I decided to sleep with you before tonight even happened,” Sansa boasted, and Sandor’s eyes darkened as he loomed above her, blocking out the water flow.

 

“Did you?” he asked lowly, his voice deep and rumbling. Sansa forced herself not to gulp, instead grabbing the bar of soap with supreme nonchalance and rubbing it over her shoulders and then down between her breasts. She didn’t miss the fact that Sandor’s eyes followed her movements hungrily.

 

“I did,” she replied coyly and he growled, yanking the bar of soap from her so that he could lather her up himself.

 

After getting sidetracked in the shower, Sansa finally complained that they were wasting water and damaging the earth, and so they got out. Sandor wrapped her in a large comfy towel, and then went to retrieve her glass of wine. Sansa padded across the floor in her bare feet, going to get her overnight bag, before pausing and glancing out the window. The snow was falling now, and actually sticking. A white dusting covered the window sill and the grass below.

 

“I always like when it snows,” Sandor remarked, behind her with the wine. “It reminds me of home.”

 

“Me too,” Sansa murmured, taking the glass. Sandor put his chin on the top of her head and for a long moment they both gazed out, watching the city from the sanctuary of Sandor’s apartment. Sansa tore her eyes off it and looked up at him, smiling.

 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” he offered and she grinned, stretching up to kiss his nose.

 

“Wait until you see my pajamas,” she stated and he quirked an eyebrow.

 

“A sexy little nightie?” he mocked, “Or perhaps some flannels?”

 

“No,” Sansa dropped her towel and tossed it towards the bathroom floor on her way back to the bed, “I sleep naked.”

 

“Unfair, Stark, unfair,” he said with an appreciative smile, following her.

 

* * *

 

Matt Dumba - #24 for the Wild. he use to be 55 so his name spelled DUMBA55 and that's about all you need to know. i love him. 

Zach Parise - we call him Captain America. A good Minnesota boy! he's got twin kids and they are cute af

grand jete - a big leap, probably what people think when they see ballerinas leap. 

Lululemon - ok hockey boys love lulu. why? unknown. but my brother has more lulu shit than i do AND I'M A BASIC WHITE GIRL WHO DOES YOGA. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please please leave a review, authors cherish them so much, even if it's just telling me who your favorite hockey team or player is - and if you say it's your sibling/cousin/significant other/kid/etc, great! my brother is my favorite hockey player
> 
> ok have a great week my friends! watch for cars!!!


	15. All Hockey Hair Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the kindness about my family (who all managed to avoid any health mishaps this week thankfully) and i just have to say this story is such a bright spot in my life. 
> 
> every story i write i'm like 'omg these people are the nicest ever' and you keep outdoing yourself
> 
> so as my thanks, a rickon chapter.

"SANSA!” Rickon’s shout burst through the phone when he answered and Sansa winced, glad that she’d thought ahead enough to put him on speaker while she tried to bake.

 

“Hi punk, what are you doing?” she asked, though she knew she’d timed her call so that it would be between homework time and bedtime. Catelyn kept Rickon on a strict schedule, especially during hockey season.

 

“Mom’s letting me have two Fortnite battles,” he said happily, before adding in a more melancholy tone, “I just got snipped by Danny Glover.”

 

“You’ll forgive him,” Sansa stated, whisking an egg in the bowl. “Are you between games?”

 

“Yeah, why?” Rickon asked, and she heard the game noise stop in the background.

 

“Well because mom texted me about your game this week,” Sansa informed him, opening the fridge to get the half and half. “I wanted to ask you about it.”

 

“Are you gonna come?” Rickon’s voice shot up with excitement.

 

“I’m going to try,” Sansa promised, rinsing out a measuring cup before setting it on the counter and bending down to eye level to carefully pour in sugar. “You’ll have to have a pretty good game if you want to top the last one I went to though.”

 

“Why?” Rickon demanded. “When were you watching hockey without me?”

 

“Sandor took me to a Wild game,” Sansa informed him smugly and it was like she’d set off a firecracker of his words. He couldn’t get his disbelief and dismay out fast enough.

 

“WHAT — WITH WHO — WHEN — DID YOU— AND HE— THEN I — MEET — DOES HE — NOT FAIR — GO TO — THEM — WHO — WHERE—!”

 

“You can ask him to take you next time then,” Sansa cut him off, laughing. “I guess he’s friends with some of the guys.”

 

“What?” Rickon’s yell was anguished. “Sansa! Who did you meet? Who!”

 

“It was no one,” Sansa smirked as she grabbed the flour, “I mean, it’s not like Zach Parise is special.”

 

“I hate you! You’re the worst sister ever! That is so unfair! I hate you so much, so much,” he ranted, and after a moment, he cut off and Catelyn Stark’s voice was on the phone.

 

“What did you tell him?” she questioned and Sansa grabbed her mixing bowl, wiping a bit of flour across her forehead. “You’ve set him off now.”

 

“Sorry mom, I was just teasing,” Sansa apologized and she could about picture the look on her mother’s face, cool appraisal as she pondered a verbal lashing or just quiet disappointment. In the end she settled on something akin to resignation, and instead asked Sansa,

 

“Did you tell him you could go to his game?”

 

“Not in so many words, no,” Sansa explained, evading any mention of Sandor. “I will be there though.”

 

“And what exactly are you missing to do so?” Catelyn demanded sharply and Sansa briefly pinched between her eyes before realizing that her hands were coated in flour.

 

“Just a study group and a mentorship meeting. But I already spoke to everyone in the group and they said it’s fine, and I rescheduled the meeting,” Sansa told her patiently.

 

“Well, alright then,” Catelyn relented, “I just hate when no one is free to go to his games. And with your father and I taking Bran to a specialist and Arya being busy, and your brother off with that woman doing god knows what—”

 

“Her name is Talisa and she’s Robb’s wife,” Sansa cut her mother off. “I would think the fact that she’s going to give birth to your first grandkid would grant her the privilege of getting a name, mother.”

 

“Yes, well, they’re going to lamaze class,” Catelyn went on without missing a beat and Sansa mixed her batter a bit more aggressively than she needed to.

 

“I’ll go mom, it’s not a big deal. I’m excited to see him play anyways. Is Arya busy with school then?” Sansa asked curiously and her mother made a scoffing noise.

 

“Your sister does not lower herself to tell me her plans. I’m just her mother, but no. Not even I get to know where she is or what she’s doing, only that she needs money for—”

 

Sansa tuned the rest of the conversation with her mother out, distracted by her baking and nagging worry over Arya. Her sister was fine. She was always fine. Besides, it seemed it wasn’t just Sansa she was cutting out. The realization that Arya grouped her with their mother was not an easy one for Sansa, and when she finally hung up, she was more irked by that than any of her mother’s subtle jabs.

 

“What the hell are you making that smells so good?” Jeyne demanded, walking through the door.

 

“Pumpkin cheesecake pie,” Sansa explained, putting dishes in the dishwasher and hanging her apron up. “It’s a test run for Thanksgiving, to make sure I can actually do it.”

 

“It smells amazing,” Jeyne said mournfully, “I just wish I could have some.”

 

“You can,” Sansa promised, “I’ll make another one when we go up north, and if this one turns out any good, I’ll just take a couple slices to Sandor.”

 

“No, I cut myself off from all sweets,” Jeyne announced, sitting at the stools and pulling out her homework. “Nationals is in like two months, and I have to be at my peak condition. Especially if I’m going to be next to Alayaya and Gilly. They’re twigs.”

 

“You judge yourself too harshly,” Sansa kissed Jeyne’s head as she went to take a shower.

 

She grabbed her phone while she waited for the water to get warm, twisting it in her hands as she contemplated texting Arya. It couldn’t make anything worse between the two of them, she figured, so she pulled up their last ill fated conversation and spent a moment composing the text, sending it before she jumped under the warm water.

 

_Going to Rickon’s game on Thurs. Want to tag along? Supper and ride on me._

 

**gonna be busy srry**

 

_Okay! I just thought you’d want to support him. Mom and dad are going to be with Bran, and apparently we’ll be the only ones around._

 

**i’ll go to another one**

 

_Well let me know when! Haven’t seen you since homecoming!_

 

**k**

 

“Why the fuck do I even bother?” Sansa demanded, more to herself than anyone else, as she opened the oven, her shower done and the pie as well.

 

“She’s still your sister, you love her,” Jeyne muttered offhandedly, bent over her books, studying.

 

“I have no doubts about that, but I have serious ones on it being reciprocated,” Sansa replied darkly and Jeyne looked up in longing as Sansa slid the still warm pie onto the counter.

 

“That looks really good, San.”

 

“Hope it tastes good,” Sansa gave it a critical look. “No touching though, it has to cool for a couple hours. I’ll leave it overnight and we can have pie for breakfast.”

 

“The fact that you eat pie for breakfast and still stay a size zero is really fucking annoying,” Jeyne informed her and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m not a size zero and you know it.”

 

“Might as well be,” Jeyne retorted and Sansa was going to argue, but her phone was ringing, and on the screen she could see the picture of the flowers Sandor had gotten her at the farmer’s market, which meant he was calling.

 

“Don’t touch the pie!” Sansa ordered, grabbing her phone and heading to her room to answer. “Hello?”

 

“That pie done yet?” Sandor rumbled and Sansa smiled, having sent him a photo of her kitchen in a state of disaster.

 

“It is, and if you ask sweetly, maybe I’ll bring you some,” she offered and he chuckled.

 

“Didn’t know if anything good was going to come from that mess. I didn’t know little birds could bake.”

 

“Only when necessary,” Sansa told him, shutting her bedroom door. “I’m going to use it to bribe you.”

 

“Me?” she could about see Sandor’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Why’s that?”

 

“Because Rickon has a game Thursday and I promise him I would come. I want you to come with!”

 

“Is that a good idea, Sansa?” he asked, his tone growing serious.

 

“Why not?”

  
“Well, that’ll be in front of people. People that know your family,” he explained, sounding uncomfortable. Sansa paused, a yawning pit opening up in her stomach. Did he not want to be seen with her? Did he not want people to know?

 

“What about it?” she demanded defensively. “People see you with my family anyways. You’ve went to football games and stuff.”

 

“And that can easily be passed off as something casual,” Sandor stated, “but if I’m at your brother’s game with you, how long until that gets back to your mother? What questions is she going to have then?”

 

“A lot, most likely,” Sansa snorted, “since she’s my mother. But I don’t care. People are going to talk anyways. I like you. And if you come with me to Rickon’s game, so what? You can tell people you’re scouting if you’re that embarrassed.”

 

“I’m not embarrassed,” he grumbled and Sansa smirked. “And I don’t need to scout that punk brother of yours. I’ve played against him.”

 

“So can you make it?” Sansa pressed and Sandor sighed heavily, a long pause from the phone.

 

“I’ll have to shift some things around,” he declared and Sansa beamed.

 

“I promise there’s pie.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Thursday came around, most of the pie remained for Sandor. Jeyne had taken one bite and declared it the best thing she’d ever tasted before going to a pilates class, and Margaery ate a whole slice as she regaled Sansa with her stories of the cute boy she’d almost hit with her car. She’d left before Sansa could even ask her how it was, and Sansa hadn’t seen her since. She thought the pie was good, but she wanted someone impartial to see how it stacked up.

 

She arrived at Sandor’s apartment early, because she knew the drive out to Rickon’s school would take awhile with traffic. To her surprise, when Sandor opened the door, he was still dressed in boxers and a tee shirt. He pulled her inside quickly, shutting the door and giving her a kiss on the cheek before turning and going straight back for his bedroom.

 

“I can’t decide what to wear!”

 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were a 13 year old girl about to go watch her crush,” Sansa retorted, sliding the pie onto the kitchen table and shrugging off her coat.

 

“Hey,” Sandor stuck his head out with a glare.

 

“I’m just saying,” Sansa teased, going to get a plate and a fork. “What’s the big deal then?”

 

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Sandor disappeared back into his room. Sansa dished up a slice of pie for him then went to the bedroom, where Sandor was sitting on his bed and looking at his closet in defeat.

 

“Here you go,” Sansa placed the pie in his hands before going to contemplate in front of the row of clothing. Behind her she could hear a disgruntled Sandor eating, the fork occasionally scraping against the plate.

 

“I don’t want to wear Gopher gear,” he finally admitted, between bites. “Feels like I’m bragging.”

 

“You’re not bragging,” Sansa rolled her eyes, but saw how that posed a problem. Sandor seemed to own nothing but suits or Gopher emblazoned pull-overs, sweatshirts, and more. Sansa dug deep into the closet, and came up with a simple black North Face jacket and a plain Henley long sleeve.

 

“That?” Sandor looked unimpressed, using his thumb to swipe the plate clean before licking his thumb.

 

“It’s soft,” Sansa said, stroking it and trying not to think about Sandor’s mouth. She was failing. “Ooh, and do you have a beanie?”

 

“You’re not turning me into a goddamn hipster,” Sandor pointed the fork at her and Sansa tossed him the clothes with a laugh.

 

“Get dressed or we’ll be late.”

 

“The pie was fucking delicious by the way,” Sandor called as Sansa went to the entry closet, looking for his hat and mittens.

 

“Thanks, I’m trying to beat out mom,” Sansa explained, digging through a cardboard box that seemed to house mostly old pucks and dirty baseball hats. “We do a big Thanksgiving thing.”

 

“Yeah, that stacks up with the whole ‘Stark’s as a Norman Rockwell painting’ image.”

 

“Glad you think so,” Sansa quipped, before finding a slouchy gray beanie at the bottom of the box with the tag still on. Grinning in triumph, she snatched it and went back to Sandor’s bedroom. “That’s only been my mom’s life work.”

 

“Fuck,” he sighed, upon seeing the beanie in her hands, zipping up the jacket. “I forgot I had that.”

 

“I made you pie,” Sansa bargained and after a moment of hesitation he snatched it and stalked past her. He ripped the tag off as he put the remaining pie in the fridge and Sansa pulled her coat on.

 

“Let’s go then,” he declared, like he wasn’t the reason for the holdup in the first place, and Sansa swept past him.

 

“So what do you do for Thanksgiving?” she asked him as they hurried to Sansa’s Jeep, heads bent against the chilly wind that was kicking up as the sky darkened.

 

“Coach,” he replied, opening the door for her.

 

“You can’t coach the whole time,” Sansa argued, as he got in the passenger side and she turned their seat heaters on. “I know for a fact Theon came home around Thanksgiving. I remember.”

 

“We get a couple days,” Sandor said evasively, pretending to engross himself in the radio, as though Sansa’s bluetooth wouldn’t take over in a second and start playing her most recent Spotify playlist.

 

“Well so do dancers, and I always have to go back to Winterfell,” Sansa told him, heart beating a little fast. She’d had an idea, back there in Sandor’s apartment as he’d eaten the pie. “I’d hate for you to be all alone in the city.”

 

“Little bird,” he said warningly, eyes sliding on to her, but Sansa continued on determinedly.

 

“We always have everyone there. Well, not Theon of course, and this year Jon is just going back in December since the baby is due, and then he’ll stay till Christmas, but otherwise it’s my family and stuff. It’s chaos, and if our neighbors up there are home, then they came over. No one would even notice an extra body in the mix.”

 

“I’m a hard fucker to miss,” Sandor deadpanned, staring straight ahead. Sansa made a noise of agreement, but then she had to focus on merging into traffic and she let the subject die for a moment in favor of not rear ending someone.

 

“I always forget how far out it is,” Sansa muttered, swerving around someone who’d thought it acceptable to stop in the middle of the highway. “And everyone forgets how to drive in the winter, like c’mon people, we live in Minnesota, it’s just flurries, let’s go…”

 

“So are you inviting me to Thanksgiving?” Sandor demanded abruptly, having apparently not listened to a word of what she’d been saying. Sansa chanced looking off the road to glance at him. Sandor looked perturbed, the unscarred side of his face crinkled into thought.

 

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’d like you there.”

 

“That’s telling your family about us,” he reminded her.

 

“Good,” she said stoutly, “it’s about time someone other than Rickon and Talisa knew.”

 

“Talisa knows?” Sandor glanced at her in surprise.

 

“Pregnant lady intuition,” Sansa shrugged and he briefly thought that over before returning to their original subject.

 

“It hasn’t been that long.”

 

“I’ve liked you since August,” Sansa countered easily.

 

“I’m not ready to meet your family.”

 

“You’ve met them all, multiple times.”

 

“It’s going to piss your mother off.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Sansa!” he gave a shout of frustration and she laughed, unable to stop herself. He gave her an indignant look and she burst into fresh giggles.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m taking this very seriously,” she promised him and the look he shot her clearly meant that he did not think she was. “I just like you. A lot. And it feels right to have you there. It’s not a big deal, really. Robb always brought girls, before he met Talisa, and Theon brought all the out of state guys on the team one year. Arya brings friends, and all of Bran and Rickon’s friends on the lake wind up at our house anyways. It’s not a big deal at all.”

 

“It is to me,” he said darkly and Sansa sobered up, reaching across to take his hand.

 

“If it’s too much for you, forget I brought it up,” she said softly. “I won’t pressure you to come. I’d just really enjoy it.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered and Sansa squeezed his hand.

 

“Besides, Petyr is usually there, so you’d been a good distraction.”

 

“What?” Sandor turned to her sharply.

 

“Yeah, he’s got a cabin up there,” Sansa continued casually. “He always comes over for shit like this. He was a fucking creep on the 4th, that was when he—“

 

“Alright, alright,” Sandor cut her off loudly. “I’m coming then. Don’t have to say anything more.”

 

“Oh good,” Sansa beamed, fireworks going off in her stomach.

 

“I want an entire pie to myself,” he bargained and Sansa laughed.

 

“You can have an entire turkey if you want.”

 

“So,” he broke the silence a few minutes later, when Sansa was beginning to look for parking at the arena. “How are you going to tell your mother?”

 

“Leave that up to me.” Sansa put the Jeep into park and looked across at him. “Ready?”

 

The arena was already packed with parents, younger hockey players, students, and the other team’s spectators, so much so that Sansa and Sandor slipped in almost unnoticed. Sansa paid for their tickets, smiling at the woman who stamped their hands, then reached back and took Sandor’s in her own as they walked into the arena. He gave it just the briefest of squeezes before the cool air and sounds of warm ups hit them.

 

“Let’s sit over there,” Sandor pointed to the furtherest corner, far from the student section, as well as the clump of mothers right in the middle of the stands.

 

“Still embarrassed of me?” Sansa teased, and Sandor looked down at her, exasperated.

 

“That’s where I always sit when I scout, little bird.”

 

“Alright, fine, lead the way,” Sansa declared, gesturing and Sandor snorted, pulling her along. When they sat down, Sansa picked up the program they’d been handed at the door, thumbing through it.

 

“Let me see that,” Sandor ordered, taking it from her.

 

“Rickon is number nine,” Sansa informed him and Sandor snorted.

 

“I’m not scouting your brother, I told you that.”

 

“I thought you weren’t here to scout at all,” Sansa teased, and he grunted but ignored her. Sansa turned back to the ice, grinning. From their vantage point they could see everything, and even watch the crowd as well. Sansa watched as the stands filled with students, including the JV boys jostling for space, and the girls, flipping their hair and whispering behind mittened hands. Sansa had hidden her red hair beneath a St. Thomas beanie and braided the rest to she could tuck it in her coat. The other moms wouldn’t even notice her, which was Sansa’s intention and Catelyn’s nightmare. Part of the reason why she’d sent Sansa was so that no one would talk that the Stark’s weren’t supporting their child, but with Sandor here, Sansa refused to go make nice with the other moms.

 

When the team skated onto the ice to raucous cheers, Sansa instantly spotted Rickon even without seeing the number on his back. There was a certain slouch to his socks, because as a kid he’d had shorter legs than most, and he skated with the spastic energy he had in real life. Sansa had watched him grow from a pint sized one man wrecking crew to a talented player, and her heart swelled with pride to see him sitting on the varsity bench so young, even if he was gnawing on his mouthguard like a feral animal instead of keeping it in his mouth where it belonged.

 

Puck dropped, and off they went. Sansa filled Sandor in on the few players that she did know, friends of Rickon’s whose names and faces had became familiar to her over the last couple years. She knew that Rickon was young, and his playing time would be limited, so when he finally stood and hopped over the boards, she gasped and clutched Sandor’s arm tightly.

 

“Easy there hockey mom,” Sandor chuckled.

 

“Don’t joke,” Sansa didn’t look away from the rink, eyes darting back and forth as she watched Rickon skate. “I’ve practically raised this kid, he’s as much my son as he is my parents.”

 

“Just don’t threaten anyone on the other team like some parents,” Sandor warned and Sansa shot him a perfunctory look.

 

“Don’t assume that I haven’t already.”

 

“A force of nature, I’m sure,” Sandor mocked gently, but Sansa was too busy cringing while she watched Rickon get checked into the boards to care.

 

Rickon’s play time was limited, but he made solid passes and played good defense. Sansa cheered loudly for him, despite Sandor telling her there was nothing more embarrassing. Between periods, she critically examined the girls in the student section, wondering if any of them favored Rickon.

 

Rickon didn’t score any goals but two other teammates did, and the game ended with a win. Sansa stood, clapping and beaming. The other parents and students started to trickle out, but Sansa and Sandor hung back, Sansa eagerly rehashing the game and all of Rickon’s performance with Sandor.

 

“—And I think he did well, all things considered,” she ended her rant with, and Sandor chuckled, standing now that the arena was mostly empty.

 

“I’m not disagreeing with you little bird when you say he’s a good player,” Sandor reminded her, and Sansa looped their arms together.

 

“Gopher good?”

 

“Well he’s sure as hell not going to play for the Badgers,” Sandor retorted and Sansa bumped her hip against his.

 

“C’mon, we can wait for him over here,” she led him to a secluded corner, watching the parents for any sign of recognition. Thankfully, many of them were distracted, and once Sandor’s back was to them, Sansa was well out of sight. She grinned up at him.

 

“Still embarrassed of me?” Sandor joked, reaching up and tucking an errant strand of her red hair under her hat.

 

“No, never,” Sansa said sweetly, kissing his palm as he withdrew it.

 

“So how will you ask your mother to bring me to Thanksgiving?” he asked skeptically and Sansa pretended to suddenly be very engrossed in removing lint from her mittens.

 

“Oh, there’s Rickon!” she said, after a bit. The arena had almost emptied entirely, and Sansa chuckled to herself. He’d always been the last one out of the locker room as a kid too.

 

“You made it!” her little brother cried in delight when she stepped out from behind Sandor and opened her arms. “And Sandor too!” Rickon dropped his hockey bag, as large as he was, on the floor with a loud thump, and bypassed Sansa’s waiting hug, going straight to Sandor.

 

“Just the loving big sister, that’s all,” Sansa remarked to herself, before turning to her boys. Rickon was already eagerly demanding to hear how Sandor thought he’d done.

 

“Maybe say hi to your sister first, she missed you,” Sandor ordered, and Rickon turned, scooped Sansa up into a hug, paused to kiss her cheek briefly, and yelled,

 

“Thanks-for-coming-you’re-the-best-sister-ever-i-love-you-thank-you-!” then he was right back to asking Sandor if he’d seen his sick slap shot, and he was trying to go five hole, but his new stick has more flex, and he really should have practiced, so—

 

“Alright, enough,” Sansa cut him off with a laugh eventually. “Sandor and I need to go home, and you have school tomorrow. Who’s driving you home?”

 

“Danny’s mom,” Rickon said, craning his neck around. “They’re over there, saying bye to his grandma.”

 

“Then we won’t keep them waiting, it’s rude,” Sansa reminded him, kissing his head. “Go on, you’ll have plenty of time to harass Sandor about hockey at Thanksgiving.”

 

“Is he coming to Winterfell?” Rickon’s face lit up.

 

“Hopefully,” Sandor chuckled. “If your mom says yes.”

 

“Good luck,” Rickon said, in a hushed whisper, before giving them both one last hug and grabbing his bag, waving over his shoulder.

 

“He’s a good kid,” Sansa sighed and Sandor patted her shoulder.

 

“You did good, mom.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon smart ass,” Sansa led him back to her Jeep and started it up, blowing on her hands as she waited for it to warm up some.

 

“If your mom says no to me being there, I won’t be upset,” Sandor told her, once they’d exited the parking lot and were heading back towards the heart of the city.”

 

“She won’t say no,” Sansa promised.

 

“You know that how?” Sandor gave her a skeptical look and Sansa bit back a smile.

 

“She won’t. Trust me.”

 

When Sansa had dropped Sandor off, detangled herself from their passionate embrace at the doorway, and finally gotten home to crawl into bed, she opened her message with her mother.

 

**Were you at Rickon’s game? Marsha Glover didn’t see you, and neither did Nancy Bolton.**

 

_Yes, in fact I was. And Nancy Bolton is a sociopath, you can’t blame me for missing her. I didn’t get a chance to say hi to Marsha, her mother was there._

 

**Well. I appreciate you going nonetheless.**

 

_You’re welcome. Would you mind if I brought some friends up for Thanksgiving?_

 

**Why’s that?**

 

_They don’t have any other plans. And it’s not a big deal, you’ve already met everyone._

 

**Alright, but I’ll need your help in the kitchen. You know I’ve always busiest with the food.**

 

_Can do. Goodnight, love you._

 

As Sansa pulled the covers up, she promised herself that it wasn’t really a lie if her mother never asked. And besides, the truth would come out soon enough.

 

* * *

 

Fortnite - if you don't know what this is honestly i envy you. it's a video game kids are OBSESSED WITH. like my brother won't go to parties to play this instead. so i guess it's good?

 

mouthguard - all hockey boys chew their mouthguards. all of them. not sure why they even have them!!!

 

hockey mom - imagine the most protective mother, then dial it up by 20. that's a hockey mom. (i can say this cause i sorta am/will be one!)

 

checking - that's when a player hits another. it can be open ice, into the boards, cross checking (bad), checking from behind (worse) or boarding (very bad)

 

five hole - little gap between a goalie's knees/feet. boys like going five hole. insert dirty joke here.

 

And as for the chapter title explainer..... just watch this. trust me. AND PEOPLE SAY MINNESOTANS HAVE NO CULTURE. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCJjs0tZ8CA 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also this is totes a shameless self plug but i am a daft hand in the kitchen and if any of you need to bring something to a holiday celebration this year, the pie Sansa makes is actually my speciality and i will provide instruction if needed!!!! 
> 
> with that being said, i will be joining all of you for thanksgiving next week.... via the Stark table....
> 
> i am thankful for each and every one of you, and extra for reviews!!!


	16. 10,000 Lakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! happy post holidays friends! i hope that you are all in fine shape - i am super thankful for all of you. blessings!!!

"C'mon guys, just one more, I know you can do it!" Sansa tried to cheer, but even her legs were wavering. 

 

"Fuck you," Arianne panted, sweat glistening along her dark hairline. 

 

"Seriously though," Mya groaned, clenching her teeth. 

 

"Almost done," Sansa promised, eyes afixed to the clock across from them. The hand was steadily ticking towards the 12, but it seemed to have cruelly slowed. 

 

"If you drop, you're not going to Nationals," Dany yelled. "There's always another girl willing to do what you can't!" 

 

"I'm willing to murder her," Sansa heard Irri mutter, and Missy's snort of amusement. 

 

"Just 15 seconds, hold it, hold it," Sansa called, and was met with a fresh wave of cries. 

 

"Jesus fuck," Roslin whispered, tears in her eyes.

 

"Count it down, last one," Sansa encouraged. 

 

"Ten, nine, eight," they all chanted, every pair of eyes on the clock. "Seven, six, five, four--"

 

"Holy shit!" Myranda shrieked. 

 

"THREE, TWO, ONE!"

 

With groans of relief, they all sank out of the wall sit and onto the floor. Alayaya's head hit her knees, and Shae began crawling for the garbage bin. Roslin was pressing the heels of her hands hard into her eyes, like she was trying to stop the tears. Myrcella was struggling to breathe, wheezing. 

 

"Hands above your head," Sansa encouraged her, demonstrating. "It helps, try it." 

 

"Thanks," the blonde freshman gasped, doing what Sansa told her. 

 

"Should we go one more time?" Dany asked and had to duck someone's shoe that was lobbed at her head. 

 

"She's kidding," Sansa declared, crawling to her feet and trying to smile like her entire body wasn't shaking madly. "We're done for the weekend after cool down."

 

"I hate conditioning," Missy complained, massaging her legs as the rest of the girls made their way to the middle of the room in a messy circle, stretching. 

 

"Please, you held a squat longer last weekend grinding on Grey," Irri teased, but Ros cut them all off with a sharp whistle. 

 

"Listen up," she commanded, "I know it's Thanksgiving and that usually means it's a time for pumpkin pie and caramel apples and lots of treats, but I need each and every one of you to exercise self control. We have been working too hard to jeopardize it by having second helpings of your aunt's carb loaded hotdish."

 

"She can tell me what she wants, I'm not missing out on my grandma's mac and cheese, Nationals be damned," Alayaya grumbled, but quietly.  

 

"Keep up workouts, and most importantly, practice every day. I emailed conditioning workouts to your emails--" she had to raise her voice over the sudden din of disgruntled yells, but continued nonetheless. "I want everyone back here on Monday without missing a beat!" 

 

"Have fun being home, enjoy time with your families," Sansa added, nicely. 

 

"Wistful thinking," Margaery complained, sliding into her splits next to Sansa. "Loras is just going to pout about not getting to invite Renly the entire time." 

 

"Oh no, are they back off again?" Sansa asked sadly and Margaery snorted. 

 

"They were never back on, Loras is just delusional. Look, I like Renly as much as the next closeted gay, but my brother needs to wise up. Renly is never going to tell him brothers that he's missing their annual Alaska Thanksgiving hunting trip to go to his boyfriend's Thanksgiving, where he'll be surrounded by a bunch of flamboyant gays arguing over upholstery." 

 

"It's an important topic," Sansa joked, feeling sad for Loras. She knew what it was like, the tenuous balance of two different worlds. She just hoped that Sandor meshed with her family. 

 

"It's promised to be a grand old time," Margaery rolled her eyes, waving goodbye to Mya and Shae as they eased out the door when Dany wasn't looking. "All the cousins are coming, and grandma told my dad last week that she absolutely hates all his designs for the new bridesmaids line. She threatens to come out of retirement like twice a week." 

 

"Have a nice weekend," Sansa whispered to Irri as she rolled past them, trying to avoid detection leaving. 

 

"You too," Irri hissed back, scooting by. 

 

"Anyways, you have fun up north," Margaery kissed her cheek. "I'll distract the dictators if you want to grab the rest of the flock."

 

"You'd sacrifice yourself for us?" Sansa touched her heart, pretending to hold back tears. "How noble." 

 

"Yeah, yeah, go before I change my mind," Margaery shooed her. "Have a good weekend, stinky." 

 

"Love you!" Sansa began tapping the shins of the girls closest to her, and when Margaery went to the window and said she saw Drogo flirting with another girl, Sansa and the rest of the girls darted away.

 

"Freedom!" Gilly shouted, as they all walked out into the cold morning air. They'd decided, unanimously, to do cardio in the morning so that they could leave as classes were done. The sky was still dark, but Sansa was glad to have the workout finished. "Freedom for four glorious days, from Mel, from the dictator captains, no offense Sansa, and from school. I'm going to eat so much pumpkin pie this weekend, I'll burst." 

 

"I thought we weren't allowed to eat pie," Shireen mentioned, looking worried, and Gilly pulled her into a side hug. 

 

"Peanut, you are allowed to do whatever the fuck you want to do, no matter what our fearless leaders say," she told her sweetly.

 

"Thanks," Sansa teased, wrapped herself up in a scarf. 

 

"We love you, even when you get a little squat happy," Gilly promised, patting her back. 

 

"If you want an ass like mine, you squat," Sansa shrugged, not bothered. 

 

"I'd rather not," Gilly smacked her aforementioned ass, before waving goodbye and heading in the opposite direction of the group. Depending on where they parked or where they were going, the girls said their goodbyes. 

 

"Eat all the pie you want," Sansa advised Shireen, who gave her a shy smile. "And don't feel bad if you throw up at practice on Monday. Everyone always does." 

 

"Happy Thanksgiving?" Shireen looked perturbed, but Sansa simply waved goodbye, jumping in her Jeep. 

 

She showered and finished packing, distractedly listening to music and idly debating over outfits. Thanksgiving was always when her mother threatened family Christmas card photos, and she knew well enough to have several options available for her mother's disapproval. She grabbed her phone, seeing that Sandor had to say. 

 

_Are you readyyyyyyyyy?????_

 

**Too much enthusiasm, little bird.**

 

_No, never._

 

**What time will you be here then?**

 

_I'll be to you at 5 pm. We have time to eat, and then Rickon is getting an Uber to your place after hockey, so like 7 ish. We can take off then._

 

**Where's the rest of the family then?**

 

_Are you complaining about having to sit a car with Tasmanian Devil for two and a half hours, plus traffic?_

_Because if so I don't blame you._

 

**No, just wondering why your family takes a million cars everywhere.**

 

_It's three, you shit. Mom and dad are leaving after school with Bran. Robb and Talisa are taking Arya when she's done with classes and Talisa is home from work, so like 5. And we're the late shift with Rickon. This way mom has plenty of time to prep. And I told you we banned Arya and Rickon from the same car a long time ago!_

 

**I didn't think it was serious enough to warrant a twelve car parade. For being environmentally friendly you seem to have a large oversight on this one.**

 

_Now you're being purposefully annoying, and I dislike you._

 

**Take it back.**

 

_Fine, I like you a lot. I’ll see you tonight._

_Oh, and Sandor?_

 

**Yes little bird**

 

_I’m feeling sushi._

 

* * *

 

 

“And remember, your essays are due Monday. Not Tuesday, not Wednesday, not after you’ve came crying to me about how your great-uncle died and you spent the entirety of your Thanksgiving break in mourning,” her professor declared, yelling over the din of a hundred students packing up their laptops and notebooks. “Monday morning, bright and early. Use this break to do it, or suffer the consequences!”

 

“Sitting through that lecture was suffering enough,” muttered someone to Sansa’s left and she grinned as she pulled her coat on, reaching for her bag. As she left the building, heading for the bus stop, her phone went off. She reached inside her pocket to get it and groaned aloud when she saw her mother’s face. With a sigh, she swiped her thumb across the screen and answered.

 

“Hi mom.”

 

“Are you done with class?” Catelyn asked brusquely, and even though Sansa knew that her mother knew that she was, she answered.

 

“Just leaving now. Waiting for the bus.”

 

“The bus?” Catelyn’s disgust was palpable, even through the phone. Sansa was aware of how her mother felt about public transportation, and rolled her eyes.

 

“I don’t drive my Jeep everywhere,” she reminded her, trying for patience. “I hate traffic, and the bus is usually faster on days like today.”

 

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, then by all means, ride the bus. Just bring sanitizer, this is too busy of a time for you to be sick with the flu.”

 

“Got it,” Sansa thought of what it would be like to hide away in Sandor’s bed the entire long weekend, feigning sickness. “Did you need anything?”

 

“I was just calling to let you know that we are on our way up,” Catelyn informed her, and Sansa heard now in the background the sound of two other people chatting, likely her father and Bran. “Are you ready? Is Rickon?”

 

“Yes, he texted me while I was in class and said that you have his bags, he is going straight to hockey and then showering at the arena, and will be ready to roll. We’ll be in late, but I don’t think we’ll hit traffic,” Sansa replied, joining the waiting queue of students at the bus stop. She could see one was coming, and tried to strategically position herself to get on first.

 

“Well, I’ll likely be asleep,” Catelyn stated and Sansa hid a smile.

 

“Ok, grandma,” she teased, before realizing with a jolt that in a short month, that statement would ring true.

 

“Kiss your father and I goodnight when you arrive, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Sounds good,” Sansa jostled her way up the stairs of the bus. “And mom?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you too,” her mother said softly, before Sansa hung up. She nabbed a seat by the window, away from the man in the back obliviously rehearsing his rap single, and pulled her earbuds from her pockets. She gazed out the window as the bus stopped and went again, people shuffling on and off. It wasn’t until they passed the stop that would’ve taken Sansa to the Super Block that she was reminded of Arya, and how she’d been meaning to call. Sansa waited until it was her stop, then got off the bus and facetimed her sister.

 

“Hi!” Sansa was surprised when her sister picked up. Arya scowled back at her, very clearly in the middle of getting dressed. From the angle, Sansa guessed her sister had stuck the phone atop a dresser so that she could continue pulling on clothes.

 

“What’s up?” Arya replied, turning her back. She was wearing only a tank top, and her hair was messier than usual.

 

“Did you just wake up from a nap?” Sansa demanded, and Arya turned to glare at the phone.

 

“So what if I did?”

 

“Nothing,” Sansa said hastily. “I just can never sleep during the day, so…. Kudos.”

 

“Thanks,” Arya said shortly, yanking on a long sleeve shirt. “What did you want?”

 

“Nothing,” Sansa glanced both ways, crossing the street. “I’m just walking home, I thought I’d check in on you. See how things are going. Are you ready for this weekend?”

 

“I’m packed, if that’s what you’re asking,” Arya lipped off and Sansa’s free hand clenched in her mitten before she slowly let it go.

 

“Well, I just thought I’d let you know that I can’t wait to see you tonight,” Sansa tried and Arya, mid hop into a pair of ripped jeans, turned slowly to face the phone.

 

“What did you do?” she questioned, hobbling towards the phone.

 

“What? Nothing,” Sansa denied, a little too quickly.

 

“What did you do, Sansa Isabelle Stark?” Arya repeated and Sansa rolled her eyes, huffing.

 

“Don’t use my full name.”

 

“What did you do?” Arya shouted.

 

“I invited someone to Thanksgiving!” Sansa shouted back. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Liar,” Arya cried, “I can tell when you’re lying and it’s all over your face.”

 

“You can not,” Sansa scoffed.

 

“I can, you’re lying to me, right here, right now. Who was it then?” Arya squinted at her through the phone. “It’s not any of your dumb roommates or dance girls. Who? Is it some boy? Did you tell mom?”

 

“I’m almost to my apartment,” Sansa said hastily, glancing around. “I should go, I need to pack.”

 

“Sansa,” Arya’s tone stopped her from hanging up, and something in her face made Sansa feel like she was the little sister. “You’re going to be fucked, you know.”

 

“Well, mom was going to find out some time,” Sansa rationalized, her stomach flipping unpleasantly. “I guess I figured her anger flattening everything within a square radius of Winterfell was safer than her taking out an entire suburb.”

 

“You’re fucked,” Arya chuckled, finally yanking her pants on. “But you know what, San? You’re going all out on it, and that’s impressive, for you.”

 

“Thanks,” Sansa replied dryly, hiding the fact that Arya being kind to her meant more than her sister knew. “I’ll see you in a couple hours then.”

 

“I’ll make sure you have a nice headstone!” Arya disconnected the call and Sansa kept walking, thinking about the fact that maybe her sister did know her better than most.

 

Packing took her a little longer than she would’ve liked, but she was too busy thinking about Arya’s words to pay attention. She had to go back inside to lock the door, and then again when she remembered that she’d need her Sorel boots. By the time she finally got on the road, it was choked with traffic. Sansa idly drummed on her steering wheel.

 

So bringing Sandor unannounced to her family’s Thanksgiving celebrations wasn’t the smartest idea. It was also the only one she had. She was hedging her bets on the fact that there would be too many people there for her mother to lose her cool, and that soon enough the baby would be here and distract everyone. This way, she got it over with as quickly as possible, and it was done. Still, she felt bad for what she was about to subject Sandor to.

 

“So where’s the sushi?” she called as she let herself in, the door unlocked.

 

“It’s being delivered later, unless you want to eat before 5:30 like some sort of grandma,” Sandor’s voice drifted from the bedroom. Sansa shed her coat and threw it on the couch, walking into the bedroom and stopping in shock.

 

“Whoa,” she uttered, but that didn’t begin to cover it. Sandor’s entire bedroom was strewn with his clothes, piles of items, and not a single thing packed in the large black duffel bag in the middle of the bed. “I thought I told you to be ready!”

 

“We have time,” Sandor protested. “Rickon’s still at practice, and he’ll have a hell of a time getting over here in an Uber. Which, by the way, who trusts a kid to take an Uber across town?”

 

“He’s Gen-Z, it’s second nature,” Sansa insisted, pushing him aside and going to the closet. “Do you need help?”

 

“No,” Sandor sat down, folding his arms.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sansa answered, reaching up to pluck a nice button-up shirt. “It might actually be best I’m doing it. I can set you up for success and such.”

 

“Like impressing your family is high on my list,” Sandor snorted, and when Sansa tossed him a look, sighed. “Fine, little bird. Do your damage.”

 

“How was practice?” Sansa asked, as she neatly folded slacks.

 

“You won’t believe the bullshit that got pulled,” Sandor snorted, and launched into the story of his day.

 

The sushi was delivered some time later, and Sansa sighed in happiness. Sandor had, to her surprise, his own pair of nice chopsticks, and even shared with her. Sansa found herself on his lap after they ate, running her hands through his hair and muttering to him exactly what she wanted to do with him, before her phone vibrated with Rickon’s announcement that he was on his way.

 

“If we make it quick, I think we can pull it off,” Sansa tried to bargain and Sandor just laughed, tossing their sushi containers in the trash.

 

“Absolutely not,” he stated, “I point blank refuse to even risk the chance of us getting caught by him.”

 

“C’mon,” Sansa pleaded, doing her best to entice him, “the kid has to learn sometime.”

 

“He’s a varsity hockey player,” Sandor kissed her forehead as he went by. “I’m pretty sure he knows.”

 

“Don’t tell me that,” Sansa made a face. “I don’t want to think about that.”

 

“Like he doesn’t want to see it,” Sandor reminded her and Sansa wrinkled her nose at him.

 

“Fine,” she relented, “but I’m getting some at some point this weekend.”

 

“We’re going to be surrounded by your family,” Sandor reminded her, though she saw the hunger in his eyes. “It’s never going to work, little bird.”

 

“Try me,” she murmured seductively, and kissed him until she bit his lip.

 

“Unfair,” he complained as she sauntered off to get his bags.

 

“I know!” she called.

 

Rickon was there surprisingly quick, until Sansa finally got him to admit that he’d paid the Uber driver extra to drive a bit recklessly, just to see how fast they could go. Sansa gave him a stern talking to that was completely ignored as he devoured the food she’d gotten him. They all loaded up in the Jeep, Rickon in the back seat and Sandor beside her.

 

“I can’t wait for you to see Winterfell,” Rickon was telling Sandor, as they merged into traffic, heading north. “It’s so legit. And if there’s snow and ice, then we make a rink outside and then we flood it so that it’s smooth and we play, and all our neighbors up there have cabins too, so we all play pickup games, and then we—“

 

“You’ll have to be pretty good if you want to stack up to Sandor’s normal pickup team,” Sansa stated and Sandor gave her a baleful look as Rickon launched into his demands Sandor tell him exactly who he knew and played with. Sansa grinned and reached across, taking his hand, before turning back to the road.

 

The traffic eased up some when they got north of the cities, but still required enough concentration that Sansa mostly listened to the conversations between Sandor and Rickon, interjecting occasionally and yawning more often than not. Sandor kept a hand on her knee, gently dragging his thumb over it as the landscape outside their windows grew wilder and wilder.

 

“We’re almost there,” Rickon informed Sandor, as Sansa finally left the confines of the nearest town.

 

“Good thing too,” Sandor remarked, glanced at Sansa. “I think your sister is starting to fall asleep at the wheel.”

 

“I was up at 4:30 this morning, I’ll have you know,” Sansa retorted, but without much zest. She was exhausted, and the prospect of crawling into bed and not waking up for four days straight was enticing.

 

“It’s past ten,” Rickon observed, “mom and dad will be asleep, won’t they?”

 

“Likely,” Sansa replied, noting the familiar sights, “and you’re going straight to bed. We all are. Tomorrow is going to be long enough without us being exhausted.”

 

“You’re so lame,” Rickon complained, “Arya would let me stay up. I don’t even have school tomorrow! I don’t have anything, I can do whatever I want—”

 

“Oh, thank god we’re here,” Sansa muttered, a few minutes later, when she’d finally turned down the small street. Rickon was still trying to make his case for no sleep, but it was beginning to grate on Sansa’s nerves. She followed the road until it ended at a near hidden driveway, easing between two large pines, until Winterfell spread before them.

 

“Holy shit,” she heard Sandor mutter beside her, but she was too busy parking amongst the other cars to see if his reaction was to the house or the sheer amount of vehicles in the driveway.

 

“Welcome to Winterfell,” Rickon said happily, jumping out of the car and going to grab his bags.

 

“This is a mansion,” Sandor declared, when he and Sansa opened the back to do the same.

 

“You’re a former professional hockey player, you must have seen a few mansions in your day,” Sansa answered, cranky.

 

“Doesn’t mean I ever belonged in them,” Sandor replied and Sansa fought the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“Well, you belong here, alright?” she slammed the Jeep shut and went to let herself into the house.

 

“Shaggy!” Rickon whisper-yelled, when the large husky bounded into view.

 

“Oh, I should let you know, that a neighbor’s husky had puppies a few years back,” Sansa told Sandor, as he looked around the entryway in astonishment. “We all got one. So that’s five of them, because Jon has his up in Canada.”

 

“Five huskies?” Sandor looked at her, the disbelief growing.

 

“Yupp, and mine’s Lady,” Sansa answered, and led him to the stairs. Sandor followed her, quietly. Her entire family was where Sansa thought they’d be; gathered on the large sectional in the basement away from their parents’ room. Robb was sitting on the floor, rubbing Talisa’s feet, while Bran reclined in one corner, and Arya lounged across the entire middle. Sansa bent down with her arms wide open to receive the eager licks of Lady, as well as Grey Wind and Summer, before she realized that no one was saying hello. She looked up in time to see the blank shock on her siblings’ faces.

 

“Oh fuck, Sansa,” Arya broke the silence, staring intently at Sandor. “What the fuck did you do?”

 

"I didn't do anything," Sansa said defensively, standing up and trying to retain her balance as Lady frantically wove around her legs. 

 

"So he's nothing?" Robb pointed to Sandor, who raised a few fingers. 

 

"You didn't tell mom, did you?" Arya was staring at her in flat shock. "I knew you were lying about something." 

 

"She knows someone is coming," Sansa replied and Robb turned to Talisa, raising a hand up for a high five. 

 

"Mom won't hate us the most this holiday!" 

 

"Robb," Talisa shot him a look but Sansa didn't miss the smirk the couple exchanged before looking back to her. 

 

"I think it's a good idea," Bran remarked from his chair and everyone in the room turned to look at him in surprise. 

 

"Really?" Sansa was skeptical. 

 

“Yeah,” Bran started, “because you know mom won’t murder you until after she gets family pictures.”

 

“Alright, very funny,” Sansa snapped, gesturing to Sandor. “Everyone, this is Sandor. He is my boyfriend. I like him a lot and tomorrow, I’m going to tell mom and dad exactly what I’m about to tell you all. He’s staying, and if you tell me no, I will leave.”

 

“Well, that’s all ferocious and shit,” Robb declared, standing and pulling Talisa to her feet, “I wish you both well, and you’ll need it. My wife and I are going to bed, and if you to have sex we will hear it so don’t.”

 

“Thanks,” Sansa aimed a punch at him, but Robb dodged it and kissed her head on the way by.

 

“Night, Clegane,” Talisa said sweetly and Sansa leaned back.

 

“So how long did you last before you told my brother?” she questioned her and Talisa patted Robb’s butt.

 

“Two days. But I did try!”

 

“Goodnight,” Sansa rolled her eyes and turned back to face her younger siblings. Bran was busy flipping through the channels, while Rickon rolled around on the floor as a human chew toy for the dogs. Arya was the only one paying them any attention, and she was eyeing Sandor.

 

“Were you two together when we tried to sneak into the arena?” Arya demanded, and Sansa looked at Sandor.

 

“No,” he answered easily, “but even if we had been, that wouldn’t have changed what I did.”

 

“And what about now?” Arya pressed.

 

“Same thing,” Sandor seemed amused by the question, “I’d haul your asses out and remind you how lucky you are I don’t call the cops.”

 

“Huh,” Arya sat back, thinking it over. She contemplated for a few seconds, and just when Sansa was about to say goodnight and finally go crash, her sister looked up. “You know, she’s invited the entire family. And the usual suspects.”

 

“I know,” Sansa said wearily. “That’s why, after I go for a run in the morning, I’ll make sure to get the fight out of the way, before we’ve got company.”

 

“I never thought this would be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done,” Arya mused.

 

“Goodnight, pain in my ass,” Sansa said firmly, and went to kiss Bran’s head. “Goodnight, wise little owl Bran, and goodnight Rick Rock. I love you all, and please do not say anything to mom until tomorrow.”

 

“You’ll be up before everyone else in the house anyways,” Bran stated and Sansa whistled for Lady, leading a silent Sandor to her bedroom.

 

“My place,” she muttered, gesturing around. The queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, with a dresser and vanity. Lady was already settling in the middle delicately, like it was her own personal bed. The room was a little more woodsy than Sansa would’ve preferred, but her father loved the authentic cabin feel, and so she was banned from replacing the tongue in groove with pale grey and marble. “Rickon and Bran’s room is across from us, Robb and Talisa’s is kitty corner, and Arya’s is at the end of the hall. Bathroom is first door on the left. Mom and dad are all the way upstairs, and I’m exhausted so I might just crash.”

 

“Alright,” Sandor said slowly, shutting the door. Sansa turned to him, and even in her sleep deprived state, realized that he was angry. She straightened up, crossing her arms. “You can go to bed, but I’d like you to tell me why you lied to your mother first.”

 

“I didn’t lie,” Sansa sank down on the bed and tried not to think about how soft it would be in sleep. “I just didn’t tell her everything, because she didn’t ask. And I didn’t offer up that information because if I did, she’d freak out. And then you would not come. And then I would spend four days up here being miserable, missing you, fending off creepy Petyr, listening to my mom snark about Talisa's eating and Arya’s clothes and my dad’s beer gut, and for once in my life I was selfish and I decided not to ask what I had to do, but I wanted.”

 

“I would have appreciated knowing the truth,” Sandor countered with and Sansa sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

 

“I know, but you would’ve told me to do it the right way and ask my mom and then wouldn’t have came because you are too good a guy to do such a thing. So I am sorry I didn’t tell you everything. Are you mad at me, or can we go to bed?” she demanded. Sandor pondered his answer for a couple long moments, before fixing her with a strong gaze.

 

“I’m not mad, but only because I know you, and I’ve also met your mother. But I don’t want you to ever lie by omission to me again. Even if you do, I’ll know. You’re a shit liar, little bird.”

 

“Actually, I’m not,” Sansa grumbled, thinking about her roommates and teammates and friends, before standing up. She opened her arms and Sandor came, hugging her tightly and kissing her head for good measure.

 

“It is a little ballsy,” he whispered and Sansa shoved him, laughing despite herself.

 

“I’m going to fall asleep on the floor,” she complained, leaving his embrace so that she could open her bag and get her toiletries out.

 

“Alright, let’s get you to sleep then old lady,” he mocked gently and Sansa stuck her tongue out as she passed him.

 

“I was up before 5 this morning!”

 

“And I never slept last night.”

 

“Oh yeah,” she paused, flipping the light on to the bathroom, glancing at him. “What are you going to do if you can’t sleep tonight?”

 

“I’ll think of a few things,” he winked and smacked her butt, then dodged her smack back, grinning.

 

* * *

 

 

Super Block - 4 freshman dorms that are in a big square, where Arya is roomed (cause literally every freshie is in super block)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i truly truly hope you guys got to watch the video from last week - if you did, please let me know what you thought cause it's my fav. otherwise just tell me what you're thankful for, or what you think is going to happen next chapter!!! dun dun dun...


	17. Tater Tot Hotdish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here's the deal - it's not a casserole. it's never been a casserole. it's a hotdish because it is a dish that is hot, not a role that is casse. this. is. logic!!!!! 
> 
> a disclaimer/sidebar - if anyone finds my portrayal of Robin as offensive to the autistic community, I am sincerely sorry. I am extremely well aware that those on the autistic spectrum lead full and rich lives while being differently-abled, however with Robin I am choosing to factor his mother in strongly - and I believe that Lysa would deny his symptoms to the point where he has been untreated his entire life. so!!! that is my explanation regarding him. 
> 
> also this is my fav chapter plz enjoy

Sansa slept better than she had in a long time. When she woke up, with the weight of Lady across her knees and Sandor’s warmth beside her, she smiled. Stretching languidly, she looked up in the direction of Sandor, unsurprised to see that he was already awake, sitting up and tapping through a tablet.

 

“Hi,” she whispered and he looked down at her in amusement.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Did you get any sleep?” she questioned, feeling bad. He nodded, eyes still on the tablet.

 

“Here and there. More than usual, even if I half expected your mother to come in and try to throw me out,” he revealed and Sansa huffed, flipping to her other side in protest. After a second, she sat up and rubbed Lady’s ears. Her husky gave an eager sniff and rolled, exposing her belly so Sansa could scratch it.

 

“Should we go for a run?” she asked, kissing her paws. “How would my Lady-girl like that? Yes, a big long run, to say sorry for being away at college.”

 

"A run?" Sandor looked up at that. 

 

"You're welcome to come," Sansa offered as she pushed Lady off her and scooted out of bed. The sky outside was still dark, but Sansa's habit of rising before the sun stuck, even during holidays. 

 

"I will," Sandor set aside the tablet and got up as well, stretching. 

 

"Hey, guess what," Sansa teased, going around the bed to snake her arms around his waist. He looked down at her, amused. 

 

"What's that?" 

 

"Happy Thanksgiving," Sansa kissed his nose, "I'm very thankful for you." 

 

"You know what I'm grateful for?" he deadpanned and Sansa leaned back, quizzically. 

 

"Me?" 

 

"That after this run, your mother is going to know and I'll stop feeling like an intruder," he corrected and Sansa huffed, turning away from him. 

 

"Get dressed, it's going to be cold out," she advised, going to brush her teeth. 

 

She pulled on her thick running tights and an insulated jacket. She layered a puffy vest over the top, and snapped on her ear muffs. Gloves completed the attire, along with socks and her running shoes. She braided her hair back, zipped up the vest, and turned to face Sandor. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. 

 

"I thought you didn't get cold." 

 

"You'll see," she declared, stalking out of the room. She opened the door to Bran and Rickon's room so that Shaggy and Summer could come with her and Lady, knowing that Arya was run Nymeria later, as would Robb. She and Sandor headed back upstairs with their pack of dogs, and Sansa opened the door, glancing up the stairs where her parents were sleeping. She put all thoughts out of her mind of what would happen next.

 

"Mind if I have earbuds?" Sandor asked, and Sansa showed him her own pair. 

 

"Don't want to run with my Spanish music?" she tried to entice him and he pressed play on his phone so that she could hear the heavy metal rock music. Laughing, she put her earbuds in and began to run, falling in stride with Sandor. 

 

She knew the roads around the lake better than the streets of the cities. Lady, Shaggy, and Summer lopped alongside them, occasionally stopping to smell something of interest in the ditch before sprinting to catch up. In the still dark gloom of the morning, there was nothing to be seen or heard, except for the stretch of road directly ahead of her and Spanish pop in her ears. 

 

Sandor kept pace with her easily, and she wondered if he was slowing himself down on her behalf. The few times she glanced at him, he was running easily, strides long and breathing calm. After a couple miles, she turned them back towards home, and whistled sharply when Shaggy remained staring forlornly in the opposite direction. 

 

Sansa felt Sandor increasing the pace as they neared home; the sun was fully up now and warm, despite the cold air. Sansa felt the sweat beading on her forehead, and in front of them, Summer disappeared into the driveway. Without warning, Sandor broke into a full sprint and Sansa shouted, trying to keep up. She was a couple strides behind him, trying desperately to overtake him, when he rounded the corner and was gone. Sansa slowed to a walk, putting her hands above her head to keep the stitch in her side from worsening. 

 

"Can't keep up?" he mocked when she finally made it into the driveway, Lady and Shaggy trailing behind her. 

 

"Oh, very funny," she replied, doing her best to not sound winded. "I don't have ten feet long legs like you do." 

 

"You sure?" Sandor gave them a long look and Sansa grinned, turning back to the front door. For a second, she debated just leaving in her Jeep and not coming back, but then Sandor rested his hand on her shoulder and she took a deep breath, opening the door. Lady and Shaggy both shot past her, going to where Catelyn Stark was already at the stove, cooking. 

 

"Oh good, you're back from your run then," Catelyn's back was to them, and her long red hair was wound up into an immaculate bun, and she had a well worn apron over her cashmere sweater. Sansa reached down and took hold of Sandor's hand, to give herself strength.

 

"Mom," she uttered, and her voice wavered slightly, "I have something to tell you." 

 

"What, Sansa? I have to make stuffing, and you need to do the gravy, and Lysa is demanding vegan options for--" Catelyn turned and stopped suddenly, still holding a large knife in one hand. For a second, her ice blue eyes were locked on Sansa's face, then they rapidly went to Sandor's face, the clasped hands, back to Sansa, back to Sandor, before finally settling on Sansa's face again. She was pale, and her mouth kept opening and closing without any words coming out. 

 

"This is Sandor Clegane," Sansa said bravely, knowing how stupid it was to be introducing her mother to someone she'd already met and unable to help herself from doing it anyways. "I invited him to Thanksgiving." 

 

"What," Catelyn's entire body seemed to be trembling, "is going on?" 

 

"I am dating your daughter," Sandor said smoothly and Sansa's stomach flipped over. "I enjoy her company, and you've raised a strong young woman. You have a lovely home, and I'm grateful to have been invited, even if it wasn't under the most transparent of circumstances, as I was made aware a short time ago." 

 

"I...." Catelyn kept looking to Sansa, as if she was going to announce this all a big joke. When her daughter didn't do so, Catelyn's manners kicked in and a mechanic smile crossed her face. “Welcome to our home."

 

"Thank you," Sandor said graciously and before any of them could say much more, Ned Stark came down the stairs. 

 

"Clegane!" he boomed, happily, if not bewildered. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

 

"Dad, Sandor and I are dating," Sansa announced, a bit stronger now. The jovial smile on Ned's face didn't waver for more than a second, and when he reached them, he stuck his hand out. 

 

"Welcome to Winterfell," he declared, leaning around Sandor and giving Sansa a wide eyed look. 

 

"I should go get cleaned up so that I can help mom," Sansa said quietly and then hurried downstairs.

 

"You're alive!" Robb was laying on the couch, shirtless and sleepy, while Talisa was sorting through tarot cards on the floor. He looked truly surprised, and Sansa glared at him.

 

"And Sandor too," Talisa remarked, when Sandor made his way to the basement. 

 

"Yes, yes, you're all so funny," Sansa snapped, pulling off her gloves and vest. 

 

"We're not being sassy," Robb protested, "we were being nice! When we told her we were pregnant, there was screaming." 

 

"Wailing," Talisa corrected and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

"Yeah, well, she's too stressed out to do anything but go into robot hosting mode, so my plan work," Sansa informed them. 

 

"Nicely done," Robb said appreciatively, "it's good to know I'm not the only one who got the sneaky brains in this family." 

 

"That's not a compliment!" Sansa yelled over her shoulder, heading for her bedroom. Sandor followed, pulling off his own sweaty layers. 

 

"I take it showering together might be frowned upon?" he suggested, as Sansa threw her dirty clothes towards a hamper. 

 

"While I'm all for conservation, I would agree with that statement," she told him glumly and he stooped down to kiss her head. 

 

"Alright, you first then." 

 

Sansa took her shower, trying not to be in a bad mood against the whole world. For all intents and purposes, it had gone better than she could've hoped for. Catelyn hadn't thrown Sandor out, and her dad had certainly taken it better than Sansa ever would have anticipated. The real test would be this afternoon, however, when her entire family would descend upon the house and them. 

 

She got out, gave Sandor a kiss as he got in, and changed into comfortable clothes she could cook in. All of her younger siblings were still sleeping, Arya sprawled out amidst all her blankets, Bran laying on the bottom bunk, still and peaceful, while Rickon was almost hanging off the top bunk. Sansa smiled and let them sleep, knowing that today was going to try everyone's patience. 

 

"You should put those away before mom sees," Sansa advised Talisa, who gave her a baleful look and overturned another card, revealing the Queen of Swords. Sansa stuck her tongue out and Talisa scooped up the rest of the cards, shuffling them and handing them to Robb. He took them with a lazy yawn, flipping through the sports channels that were loudly discussing the upcoming games today. 

 

"I guess I am off to slave away in the kitchen," Talisa said dramatically as Sansa helped her up. 

 

"Have fun," Robb muttered, and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

"You could help," she suggested archly and Robb snorted. 

 

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen." 

 

"Golden child," Sansa accused him, as Sandor emerged from the bedroom, shaking out his still damp hair. Sansa turned to him, hands on her hips. "Are you going to help me at least?"

 

"What, go up there?" Sandor raised his eyebrows. "How stupid do you think I am? I'll stay down here where there's football."

 

"My man," Robb said and both Sansa and Talisa made disparaging gestures at their respective significant others. Then, together, they trooped upstairs to face the wrath of Catelyn Stark. Talisa gave Sansa's shoulder a squeeze before saying loudly, 

 

"How can I help?" 

 

"Could you retrieve the two gallons of milk I have in the garage fridge?" Catelyn requested and Talisa gave Sansa a significant look, heading towards the garage. 

 

"I'll work on my pie first," Sansa said quietly, and Catelyn stirred the pot of potatoes silently. It wasn't until after Sansa had gathered everything she needed for the pie, and was setting to work at the big marble counter, did her mother speak again. 

 

"We will discuss this later," her voice trembled and Sansa took a deep breath. 

 

"Ok, mom." 

 

Talisa's pumpkin sized stomach presented a bit of problem in their normal routine and Sansa finally forced her to go sit down at the large table to shuck sweet corn instead of standing on her feet. Sansa put her pie in the fridge to cool, helped her mother with the gravy, let Talisa cut up onions and celery for the stuffing, and made sure that Rickon's favorite tater tot hotdish made it in the oven. The morning was spent in a haze of food preparation and uncomfortable silence, but when Bran came upstairs and put on the Macy's parade, it began to feel just a bit more like home. 

 

"What time is everyone getting here mom?" Bran asked, as he snacked on the chex mix he'd stolen from the pantry and watched as a giant Big Bird floated by on the TV. 

 

"Noon," Catelyn answered, with a look at the clock. They had less than 45 minutes to complete the entire feast, as well as get changed. "Talisa, can you please set the table?" 

 

"Of course," Talisa went to the bin that was sitting on the stairs, filled with delicate china plates with fall motifs, as well as a large autumn center piece, napkins, gold cutlery, and more. Sansa helped her drag it over, before going back to get the buns out of the oven before they burned.

 

"What else?" she asked her mother, who sighed and looked around at the messy kitchen. 

 

"Clean," she said tiredly and Sansa nodded, grabbing dirty utensils and opening the dishwasher.  

 

"It smells so good up here," Arya remarked, walking into the kitchen. "When are we going to eat?" 

 

"12:30," Catelyn informed her, and Sansa smacked Arya's hand when she tried to take a hot bun. Arya shot her an annoyed look. "And you need to change. You're not wearing that." 

 

"This?" Arya looked down at her outfit, consisting of an over sized black tee-shirt, ripped black leggings, and dark maroon fuzzy socks. "What's wrong with it?" 

 

"Everything," Catelyn declared and Sansa kept her mouth shut. "You can either help Talisa, or you can go change into something more acceptable right now." 

 

"I'll help Talisa," Arya declared, not bothered.

 

"You go get ready then too," Catelyn shooed Sansa from the kitchen. "You're a mess." 

 

"You're welcome for the help," Sansa muttered under her breath and hurried downstairs. Robb and Sandor were animatedly discussing sports while Rickon played on his phone, content to be near them. They all glanced up when she went past, and Sandor rolled off the couch to follow her into her bedroom. He was quiet, shutting the door as she yanked off her clothes and opened her bag, throwing her makeup and curling iron aside. 

 

"You alright?" he asked quietly, as she stripped down to her bra and underwear, rummaging through her bag for the cardigan and skirt she'd packed for the day. 

 

"Fine, why?" she snapped and Sandor paused, reaching out to her. 

 

"I can tell you're not." 

 

"A very astute observation, given that I just spent an entire morning with my mother who is not speaking to me, besides to inform me that I need to make sure the lemon meringue pie doesn't burn, and that I overcooked the carrots." 

 

"You were the one who decided not to tell her what was going on," Sandor reminded her gently and Sansa shut her eyes, unsure if she wanted to cry or laugh. 

 

"You're right," she said finally, straightening up with her tights in her hands. "I knew better but I did it anyways. Sorry to have dragged you into it." 

 

"I don't mind," Sandor slipped his hands into her hair and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. Sansa relaxed, just a fraction. "I just care that you're ripping yourself apart over this." 

 

"Today will be hard," she admitted, "and so will tomorrow when I get my ass handed to me by her and dad. But after that, everyone will know, and it will be fine." 

 

"Everyone?" Sandor gave her a knowing look. "Or are you going to drag me to Nationals and just show up to surprise the crap out of your teammates?" 

 

"You know, that's not actually a bad--"

 

'No," Sandor cut her off with a firm kiss, then smacked her butt. "Should I change too then?" 

 

"Yes, slacks and the button up on the top of the pile," Sansa said briskly, slipping her tights on. Sandor shook his head, but went to his bag nonetheless. "Oh, and the iron is on the top shelf of the hall closet." 

 

"I have to iron things?" Sandor gave her a look of disbelief and Sansa grinned, heading to the bathroom with her makeup and curling iron.

 

"You two should get ready too," she chided Robb and Rickon, waiting for the iron to heat up. 

 

"We have plenty of time," Robb dismissed, as Rickon ignored her in favor of trying to get Shaggy to balance a treat on his nose. 

 

"Unlikely. It's Petyr and Aunt Lysa, remember? They're always early," Sansa went back into the bathroom to dust foundation over her face, continuing the conversation with her brother. "I hope you warned Sandor about what a pill Lysa and Robin can be." 

 

"I told him about Christmas in '05. He's aware," Robb declared and Sansa made a face at herself in the mirror. 

 

"If you're not going to get ready, at least go be helpful and rescue your wife," Sansa ordered and Robb groaned, finally getting up. 

 

"C'mon Rickers, we should put the dogs in the garage before mom loses her shit," she heard Robb whistle for the dogs, and then the sound of them all padding up the stairs. Sandor was just doing her mascara when Sandor appeared in the doorway, dressed but disgruntled. 

 

"I don't actually have to iron it, do I?" he plucked at the collar. 

 

"No, you don't," Sansa smiled sweetly, finishing up with her lipstick. She smacked her lips, then turned to Sandor and shook out her hair. "How's this look?" 

 

"You know, I have to give Catelyn Stark one thing," he said, taking a couple steps towards her with a glint in his eye, "she has an incredible daughter." 

 

"Oh, Arya?" Sansa teased and he bent his head down to kiss her but Sansa held up one finger to his lips and stopped him. "Lipstick, remember?" 

 

"You can reapply," he insisted and she laughed, climbing down off the counter and holding him at arms length. 

 

"Yeah, but if you go upstairs with cranberry mauve on your lips, they'll know something is up." 

 

"Something is up," he implied and Sansa gasped, smacking his shoulder. 

 

"Sansa!" Arya bellowed from upstairs. "We could use some help!" 

 

"Let's go," Sansa gave him an air kiss to both cheeks and squeezed past, heading upstairs. 

 

"I'm going to kill mom," Arya hissed through gritted teeth, as she pulled napkins through pumpkin emblazoned napkin rings. "What the fuck is the point of any of this? We're going to use the napkins anyways!" 

 

"I know, I know," Sansa waved her way from the pile still left to be done. "I can finish up the table. Arya, you change. Don't fight with me on it. Tali, you go get ready so that mom doesn't make anymore comments. Where is everyone anyways?" 

 

"Dad took the boys down to the lake, we don't know why," Arya informed her, and Sansa snorted. She knew why, and so did everyone else. Ned Stark was fleeing his wife's wrath, and he'd taken the boys with him because of age old traditions that set women in the kitchen. 

 

"Your mother is upstairs getting dressed," Talisa added, rising with some difficulty. 

 

"Go, go, I got it," Sansa told them, giving Talisa a smile. "Sandor can help me." 

 

"I will?” Sandor glanced over from the windows where he was admiring the view of the lake. 

 

"Good luck," Talisa laughed. 

 

"So, what do you need?" Sandor asked, wandering over and Sansa laughed, neatly arranging the napkins on the plates. 

 

"Nothing," she promised, "I can handle this. Arya doesn't have the patience to do it properly, that's all."

 

"Can't say I blame her," Sandor looked around at the festive table, with all it's decor. "I have to ask, how are we going to talk to each other?" 

 

"It's Thanksgiving with my family, we don't talk," Sansa snorted, fixing the glasses so that there would be space for the water pitchers. 

 

"I got that impression from Robb," Sandor began to count the chairs at the table. "How many are coming anyways?" 

 

"For formal lunch? Fourteen."

 

"What?" Sandor looked at her in astonishment. 

 

"Mom, dad, Robb, Talisa, me, you, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Lysa, Petyr, Robin, Benjen, and Osha," she rattled off. 

 

"Robb only told me about Lysa, who are the rest?" he frowned and Sansa glanced at the clock, noting that they only had five minutes before everyone was due to arrive. 

 

"Lysa is my aunt, and Robin is her son from her first marriage. You obviously know Petyr, but Benjen is my dad's younger brother, and Osha is his girlfriend-wife person. They never got married but they've been together since I was a kid so it's common law by now. That drives mom nuts. They'll all come for the meal, and then tonight the rest of the neighborhood descends." Sansa told him.

 

"I'm clearly not ready for this," Sandor shook his head. 

 

"No one ever is. Just be glad that my grandma and grandpa are down in Florida," she pointed to the picture on the mantle of the fireplace, where two elderly people in a stiff embrace looked down at them. 

 

"Mom's parents?" Sandor guessed, since Sansa's grandmother had the same cool blue eyes as Catelyn, and her grandfather had gifted her the high Tully cheek bones. 

 

"Hoster and Minisa Tully," Sansa told him.

 

"They look.... Intimidating," Sandor remarked and Sansa went to the fridge, pulling out the water pitchers and the bottles of wine. 

 

"You don't know the half of it," she stated, and before she could make it back to the fridge to get the juice, her mother came downstairs, wild eyed. 

 

"Where is your father?" she demanded, adjusting her diamond tennis bracelet. Sansa opened her mouth to answer, but then the door opened and in blew Rickon, animatedly talking to a taller, thinner Ned Stark. 

 

"--and then we totally crashed!" 

 

"Uncle Benjen," Sansa went to hug her uncle with genuine enthusiasm, and when a short woman with hair dyed streaky purple stepped inside, Sansa gave Osha a big hug as well.

 

"Hello, hello, welcome," Catelyn was in her element, welcoming everyone into the house, even if she hesitated to embrace Osha. 

 

"Looks amazing, Cat," Benjen said, in his calm, deep voice, and Osha nodded, before leaning in to whisper to Sansa, 

 

"And who the hell is scarred Paul Bunyan over there?" 

 

"That is Sandor, my boyfriend," Sansa said proudly and Osha gave her an appraising look. 

 

"I was just getting the beer from the fridge," Ned declared, shutting the garage door as he, Robb, and Bran hauled in the cases of beer. 

 

"Sure he was," Sansa rolled her eyes, and turned to introduce Sandor to everyone. Benjen was just cracking open a beer for himself and Sandor, when the door opened again. Lysa stood in the doorway, along with her son. Sansa tried not to snicker when she saw Arya's head, near the top of the stairs, turn around and disappear back down. 

 

Lysa was Catelyn's younger sister, but she looked years older. Sansa couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen Lysa happy; though she was rich and widowed, she still acted as though the whole world owed her everything. Her son, Robin, was high on the autism spectrum, but Lysa firmly maintained that he was normal, just delicate, and catered to his every whim. 

 

"Lysa," Catelyn swooped in to kiss her sister on each cheek, which Lysa reciprocated with a puckered expression. 

 

"Where's Petyr?" she demanded and Sansa turned to give Sandor a significant look. "I suggested we drive over together, but he said he would just meet me here." 

 

"He'll be coming shortly," Catelyn promised and Lysa swept by, haughtily ignoring Osha and Talisa on the couch in the living room. 

 

"Robin, how's school?" Sansa tried to ask him, as Robin went to the window and stared out it. He didn't say a word, and Sansa raised her eyebrows but was silent. The entire family milled about, waiting for their last arrival, Catelyn checking her watch repeatedly and opening the oven every minute or so. Finally, just when Rickon threatened to start eating pie regardless of his mother's admonishments, the door opened once again. 

 

"My apologies for being late," Petyr declared, holding a bottle of champagne and in a suit. His hair was slicked back, and he somehow managed to look greasier than ever. 

 

"Petyr!" Lysa practically shrieked, flying across the room to embrace him. Petyr gave her a brief hug, eyes already seeking out Catelyn. She gave him what appeared to be her best attempt at a gracious smile, and then disappeared to finally pull the turkey out. Petyr ignored Lysa's chattering in his ear, and when he spotted Sansa, a slow smile crossed his face. 

 

"Well, aren't you just a vision?" he asked, holding up his arms for a hug. Sansa smiled, but didn't move from her perch leaning against the counter. 

 

"Baelish," Ned said loudly, rounding the corner from where he'd been showing Benjen and Sandor something in his study. Petyr turned, and Sansa watched with savage pleasure, as a look of disbelief crossed his face. "Good of you to finally turn up!" 

 

"Benjen Stark," Benjen introduced himself, sticking his hand out for a handshake and apparently oblivious to the fact that the two men in front of and behind him were engaged in an intense staring match. "I think we've met before." 

 

"Yes, I recall," Petyr said, without once glancing at Benjen's face. 

 

"Sandor Clegane," when Benjen stepped aside, Sandor stepped up, offering his hand with a cocky grin. 

 

"And how the hell does the hockey coach end up at the Stark family Thanksgiving?" Petyr framed the question as an offhanded one, but Sandor boomed with laughter, a little more forced than necessary.  

 

"Oh, I'm not the coach today," he declared, turning his gaze to Sansa, who was smirking, "just the dutiful boyfriend." 

 

"I'm starving!" Rickon bellowed, and Catelyn set the turkey on the table. 

 

"Then let's eat!" she said cheerfully. 

 

"Oh fuck yeah," Arya appeared from nowhere, darting for the table. 

 

"Arya, language!" Catelyn admonished, as there was a mad scramble for the table. Sansa ended up beside Sandor and across from Osha, while Petyr ended up near the end with Lysa and Benjen. 

 

"Mom, this looks amazing," Bran remarked and Catelyn smiled, kissing his head. 

 

"Thank you honey. Well everyone, go ahead and dish yourselves up, it's for all of you." 

 

"Where are Robin's gluten free options?" Lysa demanded, and Catelyn rose to go retrieve them. When she turned back around, Rickon was about to scoop a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

 

"Wait for your father to say grace, young man," she said sharply and Rickon lowered his fork, murderous. 

 

"Just a short one today," Ned promised Rickon, who grudgingly extended his hand for Bran's. All around the table they clasped hands, and Sansa had to stifle giggles when Sandor muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 

 

"Rockwell." 

 

"Mother Earth, and Jesus Christ, we thank you both for the opportunity to be here, and to be blessed by the fruits of the earth. Thank you for giving us a plentiful year, and harvest, and this family," Ned intoned solemnly. "I ask that you each bless us as we sit here before you, and this meal. We thank Catelyn, Sansa, and Talisa for preparing this meal for us, for Sandor, Benjen, Osha, Lysa, Robin, and Petyr for joining our table. Bring us good health, renewed relationships, and championships for the Gophers. Ski-U-Mah!"

 

"Amen," Catelyn corrected balefully and they all let go of hands. Rickon went to grab his fork again eagerly, but Catelyn stopped him. "I would like everyone around the table to say what they are thankful for this year!" 

 

"Mom!" Rickon slumped down in his chair, but left the fork. 

 

"I'll go first," Ned said jovially, "I'm grateful for my children, my work, my home, and a beautiful wife who can cook like an angel." 

 

"I'm grateful for the chance to start a family," Talisa declared, and Robb grinned at her. 

 

"I'm grateful for this pregnancy almost being over," he joked, kissing Talisa's knuckles, "and that my wife is the one doing it." 

 

"I'm grateful for the chance for new adventures," Sansa said sweetly, looking at Sandor, who smiled back at her. 

 

"I'm grateful for American traditions," he quipped, and they all, except for Lysa and Petyr, chuckled. 

 

"I'm grateful for online APA citation generators, and Red Bull," Arya remarked and Catelyn sighed heavily. 

 

"I am grateful for the past," Lysa said, looking pointedly across the table at Petyr, who took a drink of wine and avoided her eyes. 

 

"Thankful for hearth and home," Benjen winked at Osha, who smiled. 

 

"I am grateful to have the chance to make a difference with what I do," Petyr said grandly and Sansa covered up her snort of amusement with a cough. Sandor rubbed her back, smirking. 

 

“I’m going to be thankful for this food, if I ever get to eat it,” Rickon stated pointedly, staring at the hotdish in front of him. 

 

“I’m thankful for all of you," Bran said quietly, and Sansa saw her mother wipe away a tear. 

 

"I am grateful for this family gathering," Osha said, smiling at Ned and Catelyn, "and also that women's rights are improving, even if not at the pace we'd like.”

 

"Hear, hear," Sansa and Arya chorused while Catelyn sighed. They all turned to Robin, who was tracing the leaf patterns of his plate, apparently oblivious to the fact that the attention was on him. 

 

"Robin is thankful for his mother," Lysa said loudly and Osha gently patted Robin's hand. 

 

"And I am just thankful that you are all here," Catelyn said, the tears thick now. "I can't think of any other way to spend this day than with my family. I just--"

 

"We know Cat," Ned said sweetly, and then nodded for them all to eat. Rickon dove for the potatoes with unmatched ferociousness.  

 

"This is amazing," Osha stated, and so followed a litany of compliments, which Catelyn accepted with grace. 

 

"I didn't know you could cook like this," Sandor muttered to Sansa, as he buttered a bun. 

 

"You never asked," she answered, smiling and squeezing his knee beneath the table.

 

"I will now," he replied. 

 

"So Sandor, what do you do for work?" Osha asked, once they'd settled into the food and Bran had stopped Rickon from inhaling it. 

 

"I'm a hockey coach for the U of M," he informed her, neatly cutting his turkey. 

 

"Oh, really?" Osha glanced down at Rickon. "I think you might want to retire before you get that one." 

 

"I'd love to coach him," Sandor said, with a chuckle. "Skating against him is difficult though." 

 

"You skated against him?" Ned looked up in surprise. "I didn't know that. When?" 

 

"Couple months ago," Sansa answered. 

 

"Huh," Ned said thoughtfully, while Catelyn desperately tried to change the subject. 

 

"Osha, how's the activist work going?" she questioned, and Sansa knew it was a mark of futility. Her mother hated that Osha was always protesting some cause. 

 

"Good," Osha said brightly, "I think that we are really making a difference, especially when it comes to access to menstrual products for women in poverty in--"

 

"So how old are you exactly, Sandor?" Lysa questioned, from where she sat eating the plain cooked peas Catelyn had prepared for her, one by one. 

 

"I, uh," Sandor looked mildly alarmed at the inquest, but recovered quickly, "I'm 32." 

 

"Huh, and Sansa only 21," Petyr took a drink of wine, eyes locked with Sandor's. 

 

"Speaking of," Sansa huffed, pushing away from the table and going to get the fruity wine she preferred. 

 

"How old was uncle Jon when you married him though, auntie?" Arya demanded loudly and Sansa paused at the fridge, using the open door to hide her look of surprise. She'd expected perhaps that Talisa would come to their defense, or maybe Robb. Her father and Rickon, in a blundering, unintentional way, sure. But never Arya. 

 

"He was 47," Lysa said stiffly. 

 

"And weren't you like 23?" Arya pretended to act unsure and Sansa shut the fridge door just in time to see her drink from her water glass, smirking.

 

"Arya," Catelyn said sharply and Arya gave a supremely caviler shrug, while Bran and Rickon snickered. 

 

"We were also married," Lysa sniffed and Arya opened her mouth, but Sansa cut her off, coming to sit back down at the table with a very full wine glass. 

 

"No need to be talking weddings at Thanksgiving, we can wait till Christmas," she tried to joke, and squeezed Sandor's hand under the table. 

 

"Why not? No one wasted any time when it came to us," Robb gestured to himself and Talisa, who simply ate another bite of the mac and cheese. 

 

"Wait until you see what we have for dessert!" Catelyn said wildly, and Sansa felt a bit of pity for her mother in that moment. All Catelyn ever wanted was a nice dinner, with a loving family, and instead she was faced with barely masked spite from her own sister and smart comments from her children. 

 

"I made cheesecake pie," Sansa tried to offer helpfully.  

 

"So is it a pie or a cheesecake?" Benjen asked seriously. 

 

"I think both?" Sansa noticed her mother's look of gratitude and smiled. "I made it with a pie crust, but it has more of a cheesecake flavor." 

 

"You had me at desserts," Osha declared, standing. "I can be of some use around here. Cat, you sit and eat, I'll serve it up." 

 

"I can help," Arya stood up and Catelyn watched the two of them, looking as though it pained her to remained sitting. 

 

"Don't forget the whipped cream for mine," Sansa called and Rickon finished constructing a sandwich with turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green beans layered in a bun. 

 

"How are you still hungry?" Bran asked him with genuine curiosity, and Rickon shrugged, shoving the whole sandwich into his mouth. 

 

"These look good," Osha brought out several pies at once, balancing them along her arms. When Bran looked suitably impressed, she reminded him, “I was a waitress once.”

 

"Wait until you try this," Sandor told the table at large, gesturing to Sansa's pie, "it's the best thing I've ever had." 

 

"You're too sweet," Sansa beamed at him, going to cut the Dutch apple before Rickon could take his fork directly to the center. 

 

"You made him pie?" Benjen questioned, looking from Sansa to Osha accusingly. "Osha never makes me pie."

 

"I don't love you enough," Osha deadpanned back, and Ned promptly choked on his bite of blueberry pie. Sansa tensed, but below the table, Sandor gently squeezed her knee. 

 

They got through the pie without further mention of love or Sansa and Sandor’s relationship, which Sansa counted as a win. Lysa only muttered darkly about the lack of sugar free desserts once and Arya didn’t overhear it, so they were able to end their lunch with Ned talking loudly over Robb about which football game they were going to watch. When the men departed the table, Catelyn rose and started gathering plates.

 

“Let me help,” Talisa offered, heaving herself to her feet.

 

“Absolutely not,” Sansa and Osha said in tandem, while Arya wordlessly pointed at the couch.

 

“Well, I think Robin and I will be heading home,” Lysa said stiffly, making Catelyn look up.

 

“So soon?” she questioned, a dirty plate forgotten in her hand.

 

“Fucking finally,” Arya muttered under her breath, passing by Sansa with the leftover turkey.

 

“Robin needs rest, and I doubt he’ll find it here,” Lysa said scornfully, as Rickon let the dogs in. All the huskies barreled straight for the kitchen, where Arya began throwing them scraps.

 

“No bones,” Ned called, from the living room and Catelyn looked between him, Arya, and Lysa before sighing.

 

“Thank you for coming for lunch,” she muttered, resigned, and Lysa gave a curt nod, sweeping Robin away from the table.

 

“Petyr, are you coming?” she demanded sharply, and Sansa stacked several plates on top of each other, listening even with her back turned.

 

“If I must,” Petyr seemed uninterested in the prospect, and Sansa smirked as he said his goodbyes. She filled the sink up with water and soap, swiftly submerging her hands so she only had to give him a sudsy wave. As he left, Sandor caught her eye and winked, a knowing smile on his face. Sansa turned back to her dishes, feeling with giddy happiness, that she’d never had a holiday quite so nice as this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also if you think this is it..... oh my sweet summer children. via la thanksgiving weekend!!!! 
> 
> reviews are love love love


	18. NordicTrack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied last chapter
> 
> this chapter is my favorite 
> 
> and it shows because it is so long
> 
> plz enjoy

After helping her mother clean Sansa spent the rest of the afternoon lounging sleepily on the couch, her feet in Sandor’s lap while lazily scratching Talisa’s head. She kept dozing off, even with her father and uncle yelling and protesting at every play. Catelyn flitted in and out of her range of vision, bringing her family beverages and leftovers. For once, it seemed like everyone was utterly content.

 

Until dusk began to fall.

 

The first to arrive were Robb’s crowd, former teammates and frat brothers that used their parents’ houses for holiday drunkenness. They came in with more beer and loud voices, and Talisa gave Robb a reproachful look that he could only return with a sheepish one. Talisa retreated from the living room, as did Arya, but it was unnecessary. After one of Robb’s buddies began shotgunning a beer on the hardwood floor, the entire group was banished to the garage or shed, whichever they could make it to.

 

“You can go,” Sansa reassured Sandor, watching the way he eyed the door.

 

“You sure?” he glanced down at her, then back at the game. It wasn’t close, by a long shot, and even Ned and Benjen were beginning to lose interest.

 

“Yeah, go for it,” Sansa reassured him, “Bran and Rickon’s friends will turn up soon or later, they always do. And my parents always have people over in the evening; dad calls it Misfitsgiving.”

 

“Don’t miss me too much,” Sandor stood and kissed her forehead. Sansa lazily swatted at his butt as he walked past.

 

“Promise I won’t.”

 

She fell asleep for a little bit, because when she woke up, there was an entirely new football game on the TV. Her mom was indulging in a glass of wine, and looked like she was having a semi polite conversation with Osha. Both Bran and Rickon were nowhere to be found but that didn’t surprise Sansa. They usually ran off to friends, or had friends join them. Likely they were in the basement, playing Fortnite.

 

Yawning, Sansa went to the fridge to get herself something to drink. She could faintly hear the boys in the garage, so she idly wandered towards where Osha and Arya went. Her father’s study faced the lake, just beyond the living room, and the door was shut. Sansa pushed it open, and noticed a few things at once.

 

The first was that Talisa was fast asleep on the couch in the corner, one hand resting on her large belly while she snored quietly. The second was that Arya was sitting behind her father’s desk, talking to the large desktop Mac. And the third was that the voice responding to Arya from the computer was that of a male, and he was unmistakably teasing her little sister.

 

“—And I thought you didn’t like being tickled.”

 

“I don’t,” Arya said, but without the usual grumpiness that Sansa would expect from her little sister. Sansa crept closer, thankful that Arya seemed to be paying attention to something on the screen instead of her surroundings. Sansa nearly made it to where she could see the screen, when Arya jumped.

 

“What?” the voice in the computer demanded, when Arya began to frantically try to shut the computer off. Sansa snatched the mouse, gazing in fascination at the screen. Staring back at her through the FaceTime app was the face of a young man, tanned, with dark hair buzzed short, and quick blue eyes.

 

“Sansa! Give it back!” Arya said desperately, torn between trying to cover up the screen and yank the mouse from Sansa’s hands. She was failing at both currently.

 

“Who is this?” Sansa questioned, at the same time the boy asked,

 

“Is that Sansa? Is that your sister?”

 

“He knows me?” Sansa felt an odd rise of pride inside her. Arya would never act this way about a male friend; she had enough of them and they’d never done anything but snicker at Sansa. This fear, the eagerness to hide him, that was new.

 

“I’m Gendry,” the man informed her, and in a last ditch effort, Arya shut the entire monitor off. As the screen went black, she turned to give Sansa a triumphant look, reaching a hand out for the mouse.

 

“Who was that?” Sansa turned to her sister, determined to get any answer.

 

“None of your business,” Arya replied viciously, lunging for the mouse and Sansa reached out, grabbing Arya’s arm before she quite realized what she was doing. Arya rounded on her, defensive and angry, before Sansa let her go like she’d been burned.

 

“Sorry,” Sansa said automatically, reminding herself that this was her sister, Arya. Not Jeyne, the best friend she could wheedle information out of, or roommate Marg, who offered it up freely. Arya guarded her secrets, selfishly, and Sansa was never her confidante, no matter how much Arya had been sticking up for her lately. “I shouldn’t have pushed it, I was just…. Curious.”

 

“You can’t tell mom,” Arya said suddenly, and to Sansa’s surprise, she sank back down into the chair. Sansa carefully perched herself on the edge of the desk; not too close but not too far.

 

“I would never,” she vowed seriously and Arya avoided looking at her, inspecting the ceiling and bookshelves before she blurted out,

 

“That’s my boyfriend.”

 

“Oh?” Sansa tried to seem only vaguely interested so she studied the family pictures that her father kept haphazardly around the office. “When did that all start?”

 

“This fall,” Arya seemed to appreciate that Sansa wasn’t looking at her as she too appeared to take a keen interest in the photo where Robb, Theon, and Jon were beaming gap toothed smiles from their old treehouse. “I met him at the first house party of the year.”

 

“Those house parties,” Sansa said knowingly, even as bile rose up in her throat. Such a party had been where she’d met Joffrey, though she didn’t say so.

 

“He’s cool though San,” Arya insisted, like she could read her mind. “I had the aux, it was a really chill place, and he came over. It was his house and he said that he really liked my playlist. We spent the whole night talking about music and stuff. I didn’t even drink, I just smoked a little.”

 

“Really?” Sansa looked at her sister in surprise.

 

“You know I smoke,” Arya rolled her eyes and then so did Sansa.

 

“No, I know that. It’s just that the way you two met is kind of cute. No one else really likes your music.”

 

“You like my music so much you made it your jazz song,” Arya said with a sly smile and Sansa waved that off.

 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Sansa questioned her, remembering all the times she’d texted Arya to do something and felt guilty for neglecting her.

 

“I mean, I have class and stuff,” Arya said irritably, “and other friends.”

 

“But let me guess, you spend a lot of time with him?” Sansa didn’t bother waiting for an answer, but instead kept imaging what it would be like to date her little sister. “I know you’re busy with school and stuff but you’re never really that busy as a freshman. How old is he?”

 

“Well that’s the thing,” Arya turned guilty suddenly and Sansa’s eyebrows flew up. “He’s a little bit older than me.”

 

“Sandor is over a decade older than me,” Sansa reminded her in amusement, “so I think you’ll be okay.”

 

“It’s not just that,” Arya still looked uncomfortable, and Sansa tried to think of what could possibly be so wrong with Gendry that Arya would be worried about telling her.

 

“Does he have two heads?” Sansa joked, “or no nose? Does he play basketball? Or, lord forbid, work for Budweiser?”

 

“No,” Arya grumbled, “he’s just different. Not like anyone else I’ve ever met.”

 

“Wait,” something dawned on Sansa, slowly before it was so obvious it had to be the truth. “Is that why you’ve been sticking up for Sandor and I? Why you weren’t surprised at all when I showed up with him last night?”

 

“I wasn’t surprised because I knew you two liked each other. It’s been obvious.”

 

“Since when?” Sansa looked at Arya in astonishment, who frowned and lowered her voice deeply.

 

“What are you kids doing in here?” she said gruffly, clearly imitating Sandor. “I’m Sandor Clegane, I’m the hockey coach, and you’re in my arena. Arya? Arya, are you Sansa’s sister? Sansa Stark, I’m in love with her. I turn into the personification of the heart eyes emoji when I talk about her even though I try to seem like a hard ass.”

 

“He does not,” Sansa tried not to beam at her.

 

“And then you do that smile, right there,” Arya pointed at her, “and you’re just as bad. God, you two are the worst. Gendry and I would never.”

 

“What about the other part of my question?” Sansa prodded gently and Arya looked intensely at a framed photo of Ned holding Bran in the hospital as a toddler, smiles bright despite the wires and monitors on Bran.

 

“It’s not bad that you’re going first,” she muttered.

 

“Technically Robb and Talisa went first,” Sansa mused, but she was too distracted by the fact that there was something so wrong with Gendry that Arya was throwing her support behind Sansa and Sandor in the hope that she’d wear their parents down enough that he’d gain acceptance.

 

“Well, then we better hope that Bran or Rickon marries well, since they’re the last hope that mom and dad have,” Arya tried to joke. Sansa scooted slightly closer, until she was close enough to give Arya poke in the shin with her foot.

 

“What is it then? What’s so wrong with him? Talisa isn’t from here, Sandor is too old, what’s Gendry’s thing?”

 

“He’s poor,” Arya blurted out suddenly and Sansa stopped her prodding, looking at her sister uncertainly.

 

“Poor?” Sansa wasn’t sure what Arya meant by that; most people were poor in comparison to the Tully-Stark fortunes, but Sansa didn’t see why that would be an issue.

 

“Really poor,” it was all spilling out of Arya now, a giant secret she’d been holding in the same as Sansa, “like, poverty poor. He doesn’t have any family. He was a foster kid, he bounced around a lot. Sansa, it’s so sad the way he tells it. But he’s amazing. He has an apartment, he’s going to be a welder. He’s not spoiled or entitled or cruel or an asshole like all the other guys here. He’s good and kind despite everything else.”

 

“Wow,” was all Sansa could say, astonished. “I don’t want to make this about me or anything but…. that kind of sounds like Sandor.”

 

“Really?” Arya looked up at that.

 

“Yeah, he had a really fucked up family life back home,” Sansa told her, looking at the photo of Catelyn, Sansa, and Arya at some Easter lunch, all wearing matching pastel dresses, beaming at the camera while flowers bloomed in the background. “I think it’s his story to tell, but it’s nothing like what we had here.”

 

“Same with Gendry,” Arya said, rather glumly, and Sansa decided to turn the conversation to something a bit happier.

 

“But he knows my name, so did you tell him about me?” she teased and Arya rolled her eyes, but there was a smile there.

 

“Yeah, I told him about everyone. I figured if I start teaching him now, he’ll have it all figured out in two years when I’m ready to introduce him.”

 

“Two years?” Sansa raised an eyebrow, “you think you’ll make it that far?”

 

“I really like him,” Arya waved a hand, avoiding the question entirely. “I just don’t think that mom will.”

 

“Well, mom doesn’t like anyone; I don’t think she’d like us if she hadn’t given birth to us.”

 

“She likes dad, and dad likes everyone,” Arya said thoughtfully and Sansa nodded along.

 

“See, it all comes full circle.”

 

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone,” Arya implored her suddenly.

 

“I won’t,” Sansa said hastily, though she was trying very hard to suppress the urge to run straight to her phone and call Jeyne to scream about Arya having a boyfriend.

 

“Except for me,” Talisa muttered sleepily from the couch and both Sansa and Arya turned to stare at her.

 

“She knows?” Sansa gave Arya annoyed look.

 

“She always know,” Arya shot back and Sansa couldn’t deny her there.

 

“I always know,” Talisa said happily, rubbing her belly. “Come here and feel, the little gremlin is kicking me.”

 

Sansa couldn’t help but feel like some great shift had happened between her and Arya. They’d never been close, not since they were little, but as they sat on the floor in the study and felt Talisa’s belly, suggesting baby names, Sansa knew Arya’s secret and had been trusted with it. There was something between them now. It was like she’d always wanted.

 

Her father’s friends arrived after her mother’s third glass of wine, which was for the best. The house was filled with rowdy older men, half of whom Sansa had known since she was a baby. She hugged them all, then she, Arya, and Talisa snuck out of the house with a handle of vodka and two bottles of wine.

 

Robb and Sandor were in the shed with Robb’s friends. They all roared with approval when the girls entered, though Sansa personally thought it was more for the booze. Into view bounded Umber, whose eyes were bright enough to signal that he was well into the drunk stage. He grabbed her into a tight hug, while shouting,

 

“It’s because of me! Because of me! Because of me!”

 

“What is?” Arya interrupted his chanting and Umber released Sansa enough that he could turn and point to Sandor, who was sitting on top of picnic table and having a very serious conversation with the other men about the fact that it didn’t matter how popular football was in the United States, hockey was and always would be Canada’s game.

 

“Oh, that,” Sansa laughed, patting Umber’s waist in an attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, “yeah, that was all on you.”

 

“How so?” Talisa asked with interest, but before Umber could explain, Sandor looked up and spotted them.

 

“Sansa!” he called, gesturing for her to come over.

 

“I’ll make drinks,” Arya declared, taking the vodka and heading to the kitchenette.

 

“Hi guys,” Sansa smiled at them all when she got closer, then was surprised when Sandor pulled her onto his lap. He went on with his story without missing a beat but a large hand rested on her waist. Sansa couldn’t help her grin, even if Arya rolled her eyes when she had to come deliver Sansa a solo cup of wine.

 

Arya’s friends showed up after a bit, and Sansa kept her perch with Sandor but watched her little sister. It made her happy to think about the fact that her sister was happy at school, instead of miserable like she thought. It still blew her mind to imagine Arya with a boyfriend, but somehow that only made her more excited to meet Gendry. If he could get close enough to Arya for physical intimacy, Sansa gave more power to him.

 

“Are you having a good time?” Sandor nuzzled her ear when the topic of conversation drifted.

 

“Are you?” Sansa turned back around to him, grinning. He was drinking whiskey straight, and his smile was slow and sweet.

  

“Sure.”

 

“I like you being the center of attention so I don’t have to be,” Sansa mused and he laughed outright.

 

“Every eye in the room goes to you when you walk in, little bird.”

 

“Yeah, but I can’t keep it,” Sansa told him, “I’m just a pretty face. You’re the former pro hockey player.”

 

“You are so much more than a pretty face, you do know that right?” Sandor’s eyes searched her face imploringly.

 

“I mean,” Sansa went to deflect the question before she realized she didn’t want to. Instead, she took a deep breath and answered Sandor honestly. “I know that I’m more than that. It’s just hard for me to remember that when it seems like that’s all that matters to the people on this room.”

 

“I’m in this room,” Sandor reminded her softly, “and you’re everything to me.”

 

“You’re drunk,” Sansa whispered, but kissed him nonetheless.

 

“OI!” Robb bellowed from across the shed, where he was attempting to play flip cup on Talisa’s belly. “Sansa is still my little sister!”

 

“She does seem like a little sister,” one of the boys said, making a face.

 

“Not into it,” said another and Sansa laughed.

 

The party lasted well into the night, but at some point Sansa started yawning, and so Sandor offered to go back to the house with her to sleep and she took him up on the offer. She said her goodbyes and let Sandor bundle her up in his coat for the walk back. Lady came with them, still carrying a bone that she must have snuck away at some point during the day.

 

The adults were still partying in the living room so Sansa and Sandor snuck back in through the door in the basement. She was unsurprised to see that her two younger brothers were on the couch, surrounded by a dozen or so of their friends. They all hushed when Sansa and Sandor walked in, latching the door behind them. Sansa looked at her watch, then at her brothers.

 

“Do not stay up too late,” she ordered them and Rickon scoffed,

 

“You’re not our mom.”

 

“Bran, you’re in charge,” she declared, stumbling towards her room.

 

“When is that different from any other time?” Bran questioned and Sandor snorted, placing a gentle hand on Sansa’s waist to steady her. It wasn’t until they were almost to her bedroom that Sansa heard one of the other boys ask, in an awed tone,

 

“Dude, was that Sandor Clegane? Like, the hockey coach?”

 

“Yeah,” Rickon answered and Sansa paused to listen. The strain in his voice meant he was trying to sound offhand but the note of pride slipped in still. “He’s dating my sister.”

 

“That is so fucking cool!”

 

“You’re so fucking cool,” Sansa whispered to Sandor as she shut and locked the door. Sandor snorted, falling down on the bed and very nearly avoiding smushing Lady.

 

“As long as the teens still think I’m cool then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up Friday morning was much slower than Thursday. Sansa, winching when the sunlight came through the windows, tried to roll over to Sandor but found that Lady was smushed between them, utterly content. Sansa reached over her husky and found Sandor’s large nose; she gave it a tentative squeeze to see if he was awake. 

 

“Sandor?” she whispered when it was clear he wasn’t. When he snored she took her hand back and patted around her pillow, trying to find her phone. She found it and pressed the home button, noticing two things at once. The first was that her battery was very nearly dead, mocking her with it’s slim red line and 1%.

 

The second was that she had 92 notifications in her team group chat.

 

She sat up, alarm running through her veins. Something was wrong, it had to be. Nothing else would warrant that amount of conversation. Someone had to be dead or badly injured. Did the entire campus burn down? Had Mel up and quit? Was someone pregnant? She couldn’t think of any other possible scenario, even as she frantically tried skimming the messages as she scrolled back to the first one. When she saw it, her heart managed to leap and sink at the same time.

 

It was a blurry photo that had to have been taken from Robb’s instagram story. He obviously had been taking a video and just caught them in the background, but the damage was there. Though grainy, it showed, clearly enough, that Sansa was straddling a man, her face pressed to his in a kiss. It was taken from Sandor’s unscarred side, and Sansa’s face partially obscured his, but the fact remained that it was her in a somewhat scandalous position. And every single message following it was in all caps.

 

**Rossie Bear**

 

_ARE Y’ALL SEEING THIS??? ARE. YOU. SEEING. THIS_

 

**Shae Bae**

 

_WHO THE FUCK IS THAT_

 

**Myabelle**

 

_YAAAAAAAS SANSA YAAAAS GET SOME_

 

**Mother of Dragons**

 

_FUCK YEAH LOOK AT HER GO_

 

“Oh, no,” Sansa whispered to herself, going back to the picture and zooming in to see if there was any way that Sandor could be identified in it. She could tell it was him, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she knew him so well. She kept skimming the messages, desperately trying to see if Sandor’s name was mentioned anywhere.

 

**Missssssssi**

 

_LOOK AT HIM HE’S HUGE HE’S LIKE DROGO ON ROIDS THIS IS AMAZING_

 

**Fellow Ging Captain Ygritte**

 

_Ok but we need to focus on the only two things that matter. First, that Roslin follows Robb Stark on insta. And second, DOES ANYONE KNOW WHO THE FUCK THAT IS. @JEYNE, @MARG WHO WHO WHO_

 

And outside the group chat, Sansa just had one other message, from Jeyne.

 

_Do not tell me you took him to Winterfell._

 

“Oh, jesus fuck,” Sansa hissed when her phone died entirely. Hangover forgotten, she slid out of bed. Lady raised her head and Sansa help up a hand for her to stay. She didn’t want to jeopardize any of Sandor’s sleep when he got so little, so instead she slipped out of her room and padded down the hall. Bran, Rickon, and the majority of their friends were asleep on the couch and floor, every outlet plugged full with chargers. Sansa went up the stairs, through the living room that was trashed, and into her father’s study. There, like a shining beacon, was an iPhone charger. Sansa plugged her phone in, exhaled, and waited.

 

She had to go get water from the kitchen as her raging headache kicked back in, but once she was back, her phone was on, waiting for her. She dove back into the group chat, skipping over the confusion from the freshman girls and stopping when she reached Irri’s top five suggestions of men it could be. Sandor’s name wasn’t on the list, so Sansa kept scrolling.

 

Margaery promised to ransack the apartment when they got home for any evidence of the man. Myranda stated that it was only fair that they question Sansa until she told them. Ros was the only one who said that Sansa’s business was her own and the fact that she was getting laid was private. She was quickly dismissed by Lyanna, who was arguing that Sansa would never date a basketball player; the best options were an O-lineman or a wrestler, based on the size.

 

“What are you doing up so early?” her father’s voice startled her and Sansa looked up with wide eyes. Ned stood there was a bemused smile and a mug of steaming coffee.

 

“I needed a charger,” she said, by way of explanation and Ned snorted.

 

“Rickon steals that one every other day. You’re lucky it’s still there.”

 

“What are you doing up so early?” Sansa questioned him, unfolding herself from the chair. The last couple messages had been nothing more than wild speculation and her secret was still safe. “I thought you’d have a pretty bad hangover.”

 

“Who says I don’t?” Ned raised the coffee mug and walked out of the study. Sansa left her phone, following. Ned was at the windows, overlooking the lake. “So, why the desperate need to check the social media sphere so early?”

 

“Robb posted a picture of Sandor and I last night,” Sansa told him, leaving out the fact that she was making out with him in the said photo. “The girls saw it and are trying to figure out who he is. Current odds favor Wylis Manderly.”

 

“Manderly? The heavy weight wrestler?” Ned shot her a look and Sansa grinned. “You’d never.”

 

“They don’t know that,” she remarked and Ned snorted, taking a long drink of coffee. For a second they were quiet, before Ned turned to her and asked softly,

 

“Was there anyone you told, Sansa?”

 

“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” Sansa watched as a bald eagle drifted over the lake, “honestly. It was just that no one believed me and I knew if I told people I would have to explain myself and I didn’t want to.”

 

“People like your mother?” Ned’s voice was light, but Sansa flinched still.

 

“You know what she’s like,” she said lowly, defensively. “I didn’t want to go through that.”

 

“Is she really such a trial and tribulation?” Ned questioned gently and Sansa thought of when she was younger, when her mother had been her confidante and greatest source of comfort and joy.

 

“I don’t know when it started being so, but yes,” Sansa replied and Ned sighed heavily. He opened his arms for a hug and Sansa stepped in, breathing deeply. He smelled like coffee and the lavender-vanilla sleep spray Catelyn used on the sheets.

 

“She loves you more than anything,” Ned reminded her, “and I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but she does what she thinks is best.”

 

Sansa chose not to reply; she knew that Catelyn thought everything she did was for the best. Sansa just wasn’t sure why Catelyn’s ideas were the best for any of them. She didn’t like who her children had chosen for significant others, even though they brought joy to their lives. She didn’t like what they studied at college, instead of praising their grades. She couldn’t even bring herself to accept Bran's so called flaws; instead she insisted on tracking down doctors and specialists to try to fix him.

 

“But what do you think dad?” she asked finally, when Ned finally wandered back to the kitchen for more coffee.

 

“About Sandor?” he poured himself another mug with a thoughtful expression.

 

“Yeah,” Sansa shuffled her feet.

 

“He’s kind to you,” Ned observed and Sansa looked up, surprised at his observation. “He’s a good man. I’ve liked him every other time I’ve spoken to him, I don’t doubt this will be any different.” 

 

“Thanks dad,” Sansa breathed easier now, smiling. “That really means a lot.”

 

“Now go get your phone, I need to work,” Ned dismissed her with a wink, “before your mother and brother wake up and think to tell me how to do my job.”

 

“Love you,” Sansa called, retrieving her half charged phone from the study and heading back downstairs. Sandor was still sleeping, so Sansa let him. She pulled out her computer, trying to focus on doing some homework. There was a pit, deep in her stomach. Today she’d fight with her mother, and it didn’t matter that her father liked Sandor or that it seemed like all her siblings did. Catelyn was going to be her biggest fight.

 

“Hey,” Sandor muttered after nearly an hour. Sansa looked over from researching her paper and smiled brightly at him.

 

“Good morning,” she said, as Lady stretched and whined.

 

“How do you feel?” Sandor asked her sleepily, rubbing Lady’s belly.

 

“Fine, but how’s your head?” Sansa replied, amused and Sandor briefly touched his forehead.

 

“Water might be good.”

 

“Done,” Sansa handed him the still full glass and he drank it eagerly.

 

“That’s better,” he declared, once it was empty, reclining back and looking up at the ceiling. “I take it you didn’t go for a run yet?”

 

“Nope,” Sansa told him, saving her progress before shutting the computer.

 

“We going?” he asked her and she looked at him in surprise.

 

“You up for it?”

 

“Might as well,” he decided, “nothing cures a hangover like sweating it out, right?”

 

“Unless you want to do cardio in the gym,” Sansa told him and he looked at her in annoyance.

 

“There was a gym here and you didn’t tell me?”

 

“I like running outside,” she stated and he rolled his eyes.

 

The pair of them got up and dressed for a workout. Sansa made them both protein shakes before showing Sandor the gym that her father had constructed in the back of the shed. It had two parts; one was filled with various weight lifting machines that her elder brothers had spent hours on while the other corner was paneled with mirrors and had a hardwood floor. That was Sansa’s makeshift dance studio. It wasn’t big enough for more than two or three people but she and Jeyne had spent days when they were younger practicing turns and leaps there, coming up with little routines and trying new skills.

 

“Are you going to dance for me, little bird?” Sandor quipped as he started stacking weight on the squat rack.

 

“If you’re good,” she teased, already on the cycling bike.

 

They worked out together, joking and laughing with one another as they moved between machines. Sansa did a couple squats just so that she could wink at Sandor. He did curls in front of her, grinning. They did abs together, poking and prodding; unable to keep their hands off each other. Sansa did end their workout stretching, nearly crying with laughter when Sandor struggling to touch his toes.

 

“It didn’t matter if I was flexible, you little shit,” Sandor told her as they walked back to the house, bumping hips and grinning, “I could knock a guy out with one punch.”

 

“Is it weird that that’s a bit sexy to me?” Sansa asked thoughtfully, as Sandor opened the door for her.

 

“I’d be worried if it wasn't,” he replied, and Sansa went to make a smart comment back before stopping in her tracks. Her mother was sitting along at the large marble island in the middle of the kitchen, with a steaming mug of tea and a slice of toast. Her steely gaze was fixed to Sansa’s.

 

“Mom,” Sansa said carefully, noting that the house was quiet. That never happened, so Catelyn very clearly had arranged for this moment.

 

“Sansa,” she said primly and gestured to the seat across from her, “please sit.”

 

“Alright,” Sansa said slowly, taking ahold of Sandor’s hand. Nothing escaped Catelyn’s critical eye; for a fraction of a second her lips pursed before smoothing out.

 

“I think this is something that can be said alone,” Catelyn ordered, glossing it over with suggestion.

 

“Anything you want to say to me can be said in front of Sandor,” Sansa told her mother, knees trembling and not from her workout.

 

“I would appreciate you letting me speak alone to my child,” Catelyn shifted her gaze to Sandor, who gave her a passive smile but didn’t move.

 

“I have a feeling a lot of it will be in regard to me,” he said with enough politeness to disguise the fact that his will was made of iron, “and so I feel I should stay.”

 

“Alright,” Catelyn took a drink of her tea, “both of you then. Sit.”

 

“I want to start by saying sorry,” Sansa said hastily, when she sat down in one bar stool and Sandor sat at her back. “I know what I did was wrong, but I would never mean to hurt you.”

 

“Is that so?” Catelyn’s spine was rigid.

 

“I just knew that you and dad would have so many questions,” Sansa continued, hurriedly, “and I thought that it was better that we just get them all out here, at once!”

 

“Was that what it was, Sansa?” Catelyn wouldn’t look at her; her gaze seemed fixed on a point on the floor and to Sansa’s alarm, her mother’s voice was quavering like she was about to cry.

 

“Yes?” Sansa tried, unsure of what to do to defuse the situation. She just needed to know the right combinations of words to make her mother happy, it was as simple as that.

 

“Or are you just determined to cut your father and I out at every corner of your life?” Catelyn accused and Sansa was silent, stung.

 

“I don’t do that,” she said finally, once she’d recovered her voice.

 

“Don’t you? Was that why we had to find out, two days after the fact, about what Joffrey did to you? When your father had to listen to Tywin Lannister threaten him if we were to press charges, when we had no idea? Or that time when you flew to New York with Margaery to try out for a dance competition, that time? How is this any different, Sansa?”

 

“Because I told you,” Sansa protested, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Sandor for support. This was her battle to fight and hers alone. She’d already dragged him into it.

 

“You forced it on us,” Catelyn corrected sharply and Sansa paused for a moment, trying to stifle the anger that was swelling in her stomach, hot and unpredictable.

 

“I am sorry that I sprung a new relationship on you at family Thanksgiving and you had so little time to prepare yourself for explaining to our family and friends just who Sandor is,” Sansa retorted, trying her hardest to not bite her mother’s head off. “I don’t think it should have mattered. I am dating him and I like him. He likes me. Why is it a big deal?”

 

“It is a big deal because of who he is Sansa,” Catelyn reminded her, aghast, like Sansa should’ve known this.

 

“He is a hockey coach,” Sansa said firmly and Catelyn’s eyes flickered to Sandor, just for a second.

 

“He is old,” she corrected without remorse and Sansa gasped.

 

“Mom!”

 

“People will talk,” Catelyn carried on, like she hadn’t heard her, “and did you ever think of what this might do to Rickon? What people might say if they find out that his older sister is dating the assistant coach? There are enough people who think that you all only play for the U because of your father’s money.”

 

“And because they think that someone from this family sleeps with a certain board member,” Sansa said savagely and heard Sandor choke behind her. She didn’t look back at him; she kept her gaze fixed on her mother, who was slowly going pale. Her fury was coursing through her now, vicious and savage. She couldn’t help herself from continuing, “and it’s not like Petyr does anything to discourage that rumor. That’s how I met Sandor, did you know that?”

 

“No,” Catelyn said stiffly and Sansa continued, furious.

 

“It was at some event. Petyr was there. I didn’t want to endure a night of him trying to weld me to his arm and parade me around with that slimy, skeezeball grin of his. He likes when people think I’m his little harlot, did you know that? Do you even care?”

 

“Petyr is a longtime family friend,” Catelyn tried to butt in, but Sansa’s rage had well and truly ran away from her now.

 

“You don’t give two shits about who I date or how they treat me, so long as it looks good on the outside. You can say it to my face, mom, you don’t like Sandor because he’s old and scarred and isn’t a multi-billionaire CEO who can talk stock portfolios with dad. I might even - the horror! - work for a living with him.”

 

“You will not speak to me like that,” Catelyn snapped and Sansa was silent, fuming. “I am your mother and you would do well to remember that.”

 

“I do,” Sansa said sullenly, but Catelyn wasn’t done yet.

 

“You will be allowed to stay here and in the same room for the time being,” Catelyn declared. “I will let you two have free reign of the house, but I will not tolerate you setting a bad example for your younger siblings. The Lord knows Robb and Talisa have done that already. I will not hear another word about this subject, but at least now you know, Sansa. That any trust I placed with you is broken - perhaps forever.”

 

And with that, Catelyn Stark swept from the house.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Sansa whispered, putting her head down on the cool counter, trying to hold back tears or a scream of frustration. She wasn’t sure which.After a long second, Sandor’s large hand rested on her back. Sansa allowed herself ten seconds to force her emotions down and when they were up, she raised a dry eyed face to his.

 

“You okay?” he asked her with evident concern and Sansa nodded, hopping down off the stool.

 

“I’m starving. I’m going to make a salad. Do you want one?”

 

“I’m alright,” Sandor said carefully, watching her for a few moments before asking, “why do you do that?"

 

"Do what?" Sansa was still trembling with anger as she opened the fridge and pulled out the necessary ingredients for her salad.

 

"Let her walk all over you," Sandor said and Sansa stopped, hand still reaching for the pomegranate balsamic vinaigrette. Then suddenly, she rounded on him, all the anger she felt at her mother switching, like a slip to Sandor.

 

"Don't talk about her like that. She's my mother," she snapped.

 

"Did you not just hear her ignore your feelings and criticize everything you do?" Sandor looked incredulously.

 

"I did, and thank you for the reminder. But she is still my mother. She is the one who gave birth to me and loves me more than anything. So don't start," Sansa warned, but Sandor pressed on, apparently disregarding the fact that she was ready to throw something at his head.

 

"I mean, why didn't you stand up for yourself and tell her to fuck off? Why don't you ever say anything? Why the hell do you even own her an apology or an explanation? You’re a grown woman, why don’t you tell her to butt out?“

 

"Because I'm me!" Sansa had to choke back down a shout. "Because I am the good little girl. I was her little angel, the little doll. The first girl after the boys, and the only girl when you consider Arya. All that expectation, put on me. Since the day I was born. She put me in pageants. She put me in ballet. I was never allowed to be myself. I was always someone else's. She told me what to wear and how to act. My dance teachers told me how to walk, to hold myself, to perform even when it's just myself in the mirror. I have, for 21 fucking years of my life, allowed someone else to dictate me, my every move. Longer legs, head high, don't wear too much makeup but never go out looking tired. Go to parties but don't get drunk. Be relaxed and easygoing, but get perfect grades. Eat a cheeseburger but don't gain weight. Do you even know that for me to say that I am uncomfortable is a big accomplishment for me? To tell her that something is wrong is my way of standing up for myself? I am never going to tell her to fuck off and do what I want. That's not me. I can't undo an entire lifetime of thinking that I exist only to please others. This is a victory to me. And fuck you if you can't see that."

 

She ended her rant breathing hard, looking at Sandor and daring him to fight her back on this. Instead he looked as though he had been clubbed over the head, staring at her in dumb astonishment. It occurred to her, then, what she was trembling, and that the fridge was still open, blowing cool air down her back. She turned back to it, grabbing her remaining things, and setting them down on the counter. She cut up the strawberries in silence, and it wasn't until she'd put the feta back in the fridge did Sandor finally speak.

 

"I didn't realize that was how you felt."

 

"Why do you think it's so easy for me to do what I'm told, all the time?" she questioned, "why do you think that when you tell a dancer to do this or that, we do it? No questions. Our entire lives are obedience. It starts early."

 

"I guess I'm use to hockey players," Sandor said quietly and Sansa speared the spinach.

 

"I guess you are."

 

"I just hate to see anyone put you down," he offered, gauging her reaction and Sansa balefully munched her salad, so he continued. "I know that you're incredibly and talented and you're fucking gorgeous, so for her not to acknowledge any of that makes me mad."

 

“And you know what?” Sansa’s eyes burned with the effort to hold back all the tears that she wanted to shed. “I really, really adore you for saying that.”

 

“I know,” Sandor got up and came around the island to enfold her in a hug, uncaring that they were both sweaty and smelled. Sansa leaned against him and tried to breathe, reminding herself that she was safe here.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered and Sandor kissed her head.

 

“Of course. But do you think that I’m that old?”

 

“No,” Sansa turned her face up to his, smiling wickedly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not getting you touch of grey for Christmas.”

 

“Brat,” he said with amusement, before stealing her fork and salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also sidebar the story of arya/gendry meeting is how my sister met her boyfriend and it's real cute and it got included
> 
> and the chapter title is because I have watched a lot of Goldberg's lately and I have very fond memories of my siblings and I 'playing' with my mom's NordicTrack, aka breaking it. If you have memories of those, please please share with me. 
> 
> i hope you all liked it!!!


	19. Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so as always there will be a little glossary at the end - but if you want to get a deeper understanding of what I'm referencing here, go watch Miracle (it's on Netflix USA) or read the wiki page for Miracle on Ice. If you really want a deeper understanding, read Herb Brooks page. 
> 
> Once you're done reading or watching, please allow for a moment to absorb the greatest thing to happen to US Hockey - ever - and then know that over half those kids were Minnesota born and bred, and we get to claim Herb Brooks as our own. 
> 
> So with that being said you can about imagine why any hockey kid can quote this entire movie backwards and forwards
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY MY HOCKEY RANTING BELOW

“Where the fuck were you guys?” Sansa looked up when Rickon, Bran, Robb, Talisa, and Arya all stormed downstairs less than an hour later. She and Sandor were laying on the couch with the dogs, watching a comedy special on Netflix.

 

“We went Black Friday shopping,” Rickon informed her and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

“So mom skipped out on her second favorite holiday of the year to yell at me,” she grumbled, pausing the tv. “Don’t I feel special.”

 

“Don’t feel too special, she sent an extensive list,” Arya informed her, rolling her eyes. “We all got stuck with the gifts for someone else. I had to get stuff for Robb and I can confirm that he’s still her favorite.”

 

“If it’s all baby stuff then it doesn’t count,” Robb stated defensively.

 

“You’re a grown ass kid, you shouldn’t even get presents anymore!” Arya protested and they quickly went to bickering fiercely.

 

“How was she?” Talisa asked Sansa sympathetically, sitting down beside her, rubbing her belly before taking Sansa’s hand so she could feel the kicks.

 

“No better or worse than I thought it would be,” Sansa said moodily and Talisa gave her a sympathetic pat.

 

“Sansa, give me the remote,” Rickon ordered, “we’re watching a movie.”

 

“Oh, let’s watch something good,” Arya flopped down by Nymeria, “not stupid romance movies.”

 

“I want to watch something good,” Bran offered his input, as Rickon scrolled through the movie titles, “go to the indie drama section.”

 

“No, we always watch a sports movie the day after Thanksgiving,” Robb declared and was met with collective groans.

 

“No,” Sansa complained, “I don’t want to watch Rocky or Goon or The Longest Yard for the billionth time. Can’t we do something good?”

 

“It’s hockey season, so it has to be a hockey mood,” Rickon went to the search bar, pausing.

 

“Slapshot!” Robb suggested.

 

“No, do something good, like the Mighty Ducks,” Arya countered.

 

“Why don’t we let our guest decide?” Sansa turned to Sandor, who raised one eyebrow. “You pick, Goon, Slapshot, Mighty Ducks, Miracle, or something else.”

 

“Well, I’ve never seen Miracle before,” Sandor said slowly, “so why not that?”

 

“What?” Bran broke the stunned silence that had fallen. Even Talisa was looking at him in bewilderment.

 

“Did you say that you’ve never seen Miracle?” Arya blinked several times.

 

“Nope,” Sandor told them, unashamed.

 

“Not once?” Sansa couldn’t comprehend that; her entire childhood had been that of Herb Brooksisms, the miracle, and what it meant for Minnesota hockey. “But you coach for the U. You have to know about Brooks and the miracle. It’s a thing.”

 

“I’m from Canada,” he reminded them all, “and it wasn’t my miracle.”

 

“That settles it,” Rickon said firmly, typing the name in. “We’re watching it.”

 

“How have you never seen this?” Robb demanded, still aghast.

 

“I’ve even seen this enough times to quote it and I’ve only been a Stark for six months,” Talisa said proudly.

 

“That’s because it’s easily the most quotable movie of all time,” Arya argued, then threw a pillow at Rickon’s head as the opening credits began. “Go get us snacks.”

 

“No, you do it,” Rickon shot back and Sansa rose with a sigh.

 

“What does everyone want then?”

 

“Chips!”

 

“Popcorn.”

 

“Leftover pie?

 

“Tuna.”

 

“Really?” Sansa directed her question at Talisa, the last one to answer.

 

“Baby craves it. With a little bit of ketchup,” she added and Sansa made a face.

 

“Absolutely not,” she went upstairs, pulling open the door to the pantry and yanking out all the junk food she could find. Usually Catelyn kept everything as organic as possible, but there was still enough tucked away that Sansa could assemble a decent snack tray. She spread everything out over the counter, trying to compile everything neatly.

 

"Snacks?" Ned asked knowingly, as he exited his study. Sansa nodded, already mixing the M&Ms into the popcorn like Bran liked. 

 

"We're watching Miracle," Sansa informed him, opening the fridge to grab leftovers. "Sandor's never seen it." 

 

"Really?" Ned looked perplexed. 

 

"Exactly, but he says he's from Canada so it's not a big deal there," Sansa explained and Ned shook his head. 

 

"Sure he's the one for you Sanny?" 

 

"Please dad," Sansa gave him a baleful look and he put his hands up, smiling. 

 

"Did you speak to your mother then?" he asked her gently, after a long pause. 

 

"I did," Sansa said tightly, putting the snacks on a large platter with a little more force than necessary. "She made all her feelings known." 

 

“Well I won’t harp then,” Ned stole a handful of the M&Ms before he fixed her with a look that made Sansa’s heart sink. “But I just want you to know that while I understand your difficulties with her, she’s still your mother.”

 

“I just didn’t know if we were serious enough to warrant telling you guys,” Sansa lied and Ned’s smile back was wry.

 

“Tell that to the man who didn’t take his eyes off you that day he watched you perform.”

 

“Okay, Arya!” Sansa yelled after her father, who disappeared. Grumbling, she gathered everything up and snatched up the tray, heading downstairs.

 

“Oh, gimme,” Arya took the tray to pick her snacks out and Sansa let it go, sitting down between Sandor’s legs.

 

“What’d I miss?” she asked, though she knew very well every second of the movie.

 

“They’re recapping my childhood,” Sandor declared and Sansa elbowed him in the side.

 

“Shut up, you’re not that old.”

 

“Shush, you’re missing it!” Rickon hushed them, as Kurt Russell appeared on screen.

 

“Herb, RIP,” Robb muttered, kissing his fingers and lifting them to the sky. Sandor watched in amusement but said nothing. They watched the first couple moments in silence, before the man onscreen asked,

 

“Is this what you've been using at the University of Minnesota?”

 

“Go Gophs,” Arya muttered under her breath and bumped knuckles with Sansa.

 

They watched in relative silence, punctuated only by the crunching of snacks and brief cheers when favorite characters appeared on screen - Rickon always rooted for OC, while Robb felt strongest about Mac, Arya held out for Rizzo, and Sansa adored Jim Craig. They also quoted favorite lines in perfect time with the movie - 

 

"How's it looking?" 

 

"A lot of guys from Minnesota and Boston." 

 

"Yeah, that's gonna work." 

 

Periodically during their viewing, someone would crane their neck around and look at Sandor eagerly, as if to see what he thought. Sandor raised his eyebrows each time that it happened, but whenever they looked away again he'd smile at Sansa. She grinned back, watching the movie, content. 

 

"Coxy, let me ask you a question," Robb stated, taking up the part of OC, while Rickon responded as Cox. "Why'd you wanna play college hockey?" 

 

"Isn't it obvious?" Rickon responded, a flawless mimic. "For the girls?" 

 

The rest of the movie was done the same way. "A couple of monkeys humping a football" was Arya's chosen contribution, while Sansa responded with "I'm from wherever's not gonna get me hit." 

 

"The legs feed the wolves gentlemen," all the siblings chorused when the scene depicted the herbies, Sandor chuckled, watching the boys skate on screen. 

 

"The best part about being a coach," he told them all, "is that I don't have to do those fuckers anymore." 

 

Later, when the scene showed the players on the bench, pointing out girls, Sansa turned to look at Sandor and Robb, both of whom suddenly seemed to be making a rather large effort to avoid her eyes. 

 

"Do boys actually do that?" she demanded and Sandor scratched his nose. 

 

"Yeah," Rickon answered from the floor and Sandor gave her a sheepish grin. Sansa rolled her eyes, but she was wondering if she would've caught Sandor's eye as some girl in the stands. She was reassured a second later when he whispered in her ear, 

 

"I like looking for you in the student section." 

 

They all hushed during the pivotal 'again' scene, watching with baited breath for the emotional moment. Sansa even felt Sandor tense beside her, the emotion of the moment running through them all. 

 

"Who do you play for?" Herb Brooks demanded, and they all answered the question in perfect unison, 

 

"I play for... The United States of America!" 

 

"That's the best part," Bran declared and even Sandor looked suitably impressed. 

 

As they watched the hockey games, Sansa watched Sandor. She wondered if he'd ever played in the Olympics and won it for Canada. She wondered if he could picture being in those mens' skates, better than anyone else in this room. She thought she saw a smile on his face, just a small one. 

 

"A bruise on the leg is a hell of a long way from the heart, you candy ass," Herb Brooks sneered from the TV, and Sandor looked surprised. 

 

"Is that where that's from?" he asked them and Robb snorted. 

 

"Yeah, glad you can catch that reference now." 

 

"You know," Arya observed as they watched the montage of the games, interspersed with the questions from the media and Herb's flat refusal to allow the media to single out players, "I think hockey is the only sport who puts more emphasis on the team than the person." 

 

"Dance does too," Sansa stated.

 

"Is that why you guys all look like clones?" Bran remarked and Sansa made a face, flicking an M&M at him. 

 

"Yeah, but you have all your solos and stuff," Robb agreed with Arya, "and it's not about teamwork, it's about uniformity." 

 

"That's teamwork!" Sansa insisted. 

 

"But not like hockey or football or whatever," Rickon added and Sansa huffed, knowing that she was going to get shut down no matter what point she made.

 

"Hockey's the last sport left that doesn't have inflated egos," Arya said before pushing Rickon's head. "Except for this one." 

 

"That's why it's the best game ever invented," Sandor declared and they were all silent in agreement, until the famous scene began and Rickon jumped up. 

 

"He's had the thing memorized since he was six," Sansa whispered to Sandor as Rickon mimed shuffling cards in his hands just as Herb Brooks did. "He use to break it out in the locker room before games until the coaches told him to shut up and sit down so they could talk."

 

"Imagine that," Sandor whispered back before Rickon began, word for word with the movie. 

 

"Great moments are born from great opportunity, and that's what you have here tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight," Rickon intoned and they all watched him in amusement. "One game; if we played them ten times, they might win nine. But not this game. Not tonight. Tonight, we skate with them. Tonight we stay with them, and we shut them down because we can. Tonight, we are the greatest hockey team in the world." 

 

"And they were," Robb stated in a faux-whisper. Talisa shoved him, eyes intent on Rickon.

 

"You were born to be hockey players—every one of you, and you were meant to be here tonight. This is your time. Their time is done. It's over. I'm sick and tired of hearing about what a great hockey team the Soviets have. Screw 'em. This is your time. Now go out there and take it!" 

 

"The greatest speech in the history of speeches," Bran declared boldly, but no one bothered to correct him. As the players made their way to the ice, nicknames flying, Sansa turned to Sandor. 

 

"What did your teammates call you?" she asked curiously. 

 

“Mutt,” Rickon responded and everyone looked at him, surprised.

 

“How’d you know that?” Sandor asked him, amused.

 

“I read it in your player profile,” Rickon explained, “now everyone shut up. The game is the best part!”

 

Sansa watched the famous game, finding herself holding her breath at certain parts though she knew it backwards and forwards. The Soviet goals. Tying the game, then trailing again. Tying the game with no time left in the first period. Switching out the Soviet goalie, and the hit on Craig.

 

“USA! USA! USA!” Rickon chanted along with the crowd, before Robb threw a pillow at him to shut up. Rickon would not be silenced however; when Rizzo scored he erupted into a cheer and it took Arya physically wrestling him to the ground to stop him. But when the most famous line of the entire film happened, every Stark child screamed it with the TV.

 

“Do you believe in miracles? YES!”

 

“God, the best movie,” Arya muttered, as the movie played out its finish, showing how the team went on to come from behind in the next game and win the gold medal, completing the miracle. Sansa wiped away the tears that always formed, then leapt up when the opening credits began to roll.

 

“Oh, no,” Robb groaned, rolling out of the way.

 

“What?” Talisa asked, as Sansa began to dance in time with the music, kicking her leg up before marking a rapid set of turns.

 

“How do you still remember this?” Arya demanded in astonishment, watching Sansa perform.

 

“Jeyne and I spent a week in the studio watching the girls. It was right before we were going to try out for the high school team,” Sansa reminded them, “and if we wanted to beat Maple Grove we had to become them.” Sansa leapt and nearly knocked over a vase.

 

“What is she doing?” Talisa questioned again and Robb rolled his eyes.

 

“Maple Grove state dance, jazz 2008. She was obsessed. She did their jazz routine so many times I swear I probably could’ve done it with her at one point.”

 

“Let me guess, this is the song?” Sandor watched in amusement as Sansa dropped into a plank, flicked her leg back and forth, before rolling off to the side.

 

“How can you still do it?” Bran looked rather impressed.

 

“Muscle memory,” Sandor answered for her and Sansa smirked, kicking her leg up.

 

“Alright, enough,” Rickon said finally, after Sansa nearly kicked him in the face. “This is boring, now I want to play hockey. Let’s go out on the ice.”

 

“Mom will never let you,” Bran reminded him and Rickon heaved a long suffering sigh. "No way the ice is thick enough yet." 

 

“Fine. In the driveway then. And Sandor’s on my team!”

 

By the time they'd set up the goals in the driveway and handed out the correct amount of sticks, a cluster of younger boys had gathered in the approach, holding their own sticks and shuffling around awkwardly. Sansa glanced at Sandor, who appeared amused, before looking back at Rickon. 

 

"Anything you'd like to tell us?" she asked him pointedly and he pretended to be very engrossed in his stick tape as he explained, 

 

"I just texted a couple guys that it was a pickup game." 

 

"And would these be the same friends that were over the other night and happen to know that your sister is dating Clegane?" Robb questioned, leaning on his stick and watching the boys. 

 

"Maybe," Rickon glanced at Sandor cautiously. "Is that okay?" 

 

"I'm the other captain," Sandor declared and Rickon whooped, jumping in the air before running to tell the other boys to join them. They all came over, eager but careful not to look at Sandor for more than a couple seconds at a time. 

 

"You better pick me first," Sansa called, as Sandor went to Rickon and held out his stick. Rickon grabbed halfway up the stick and Sandor gripped just above him. So on and so forth it went, until Sandor placed a triumphant fist on top of the stick. He turned back to the assembled crowd and called, 

 

"Robb!" 

 

"What?" Sansa demanded, incensed. Sandor smirked and shrugged.

 

"Sorry little bird." 

 

"Prepare to go down," Robb warned her, strutting to Sandor's side. 

 

"Sansa!" Rickon said instantly and when eyebrows were raised universally, explained himself by saying, "what? Sandor won't be mean to her." 

 

"Ha," Sansa stuck her tongue out at Sandor, who chuckled. 

 

The rest of the players were divided up evenly. Arya joined them on Rickon's team, while the local boys split half and half. Bran and Talisa were regulated to reffing on the sidelines. Sansa was chilled until Bran dropped the street hockey puck; then the combination of running and the afternoon sun warmed her till she was sweating. 

 

"Shoot!" Arya screeched as she chopped her stick at Robb's ankles. Rickon took a slapshot that was blocked by one of his buddies. Swearing and hobbling slightly, Robb chased after the puck, Rickon hot on his heels. 

 

"Get back on defense, Sansa!" one of the other boys ordered, when Sansa went to take a pass from Arya. 

 

"Defense sucks," she yelled back and then shrieked when Sandor ran past her and picked her up firmly off her feet, ran a few yards, and set her back down. 

 

"Stay," he commanded then darted for Rickon. Sansa let out a string of curses, but breathless laughter followed. She hadn't had this much fun since Mel had let them do a water aerobics class and Ros had tried to drown Margaery. They were leading Sandor's team 5-3, but it was a close game. Rickon bobbed and weaved in and out of play, chirping and shooting the puck in quick succession. Any hesitation the boys might have had about playing against Sandor had vanished somewhere around the second goal; now they were throwing shoulders and elbows like he was a longtime buddy. 

 

"Wrister!" Rickon yelled when he took another shot that went wide. Play paused for a moment while Talisa dutifully trotted off to get the puck from the tree line. 

 

"Maybe it's not a good idea to announce your move before you take it?" Arya suggested, pulling Rickon into a headlock. He got out of it quickly and the two of them grappled for a moment before Ned walked out of the house, arms full of Gatorade. Catelyn followed with snacks, so Rickon called, 

 

"Time!" and they all went to eat and drink. 

 

"You look out of shape old man," Sansa teased Sandor, who prodded her with the blunt end of the stick. 

 

"Talent beats conditioning." 

 

"Check the scoreboard," Sansa quipped and before Sandor could get another word out, a long black car pulled into the driveway and stopped a ways back from their makeshift rink. 

 

"What's he doing here?" Arya demanded, in clear and evident displeasure as Petyr stepped out of the car. 

 

"He is your father and I's friend," Catelyn said sternly.

 

"He's a fucking creep is what he is," Arya muttered, but quietly enough that her mother didn't hear. After a moment, Sansa realized that Sandor had moved ever so slightly in front of her so that when Petyr arrived, Sandor's whole body was between them. 

 

"I salute all of you," Petyr said jovially when he reached them, "playing hockey after the festivities of last night." 

 

"Big breakfasts solve everything," Ned said wisely and Petyr's gaze swept over them all. He paused for no more than a fraction of a second at Sandor before he sidestepped them all and let himself into the house. 

 

"Pervy motherfucker," Talisa whispered and Sansa finished her drink of Gatorade. 

 

"Let's play again," she announced loudly and Rickon finished shoving a ham sandwich in his face. 

 

"Game on!" he yelled through his mouthful.  

 

The game ended with a tie at 7-7 that was facilitated by the fact Sandor wouldn’t go more than three feet from Sansa the entire time and also that Talisa kept granting penalty shots for anyone who went to get the puck for her. Finally they all called it, hungry and tired. Sansa pulled her hair out of her ponytail, glancing at the door. Sandor was at her back.

 

“Don’t want to go in?” he asked lowly and Sansa glanced back at him.

 

“We could go in through downstairs,” she suggested and he gestured for her to lead the way.

 

Sneaking in through the basement meant that they had first dibs on the shower. Sansa braided back her wet hair while Sandor showered, smirking as both Arya and Robb banged on the bathroom door to be let in. When they were done, Robb was irritable and Arya furious so Sansa chalked that up as a victory.

 

“He’s staying for supper,” Bran informed her from the couch where he was playing video games when Sansa stood at the bottom of the stairs, straining to hear anything from upstairs.

 

“He is not,” she made a face.

 

“Mom keeps offering to invite Lysa but he’s not having it.”

 

“The only thing to be grateful for,” Sansa muttered darkly.

 

“What are we having for supper then?” Robb asked as he left his room, easing the door shut. “Tali doesn’t feel good. I might go into town and get her something.”

 

“Is it contractions?” Sansa lunged past Robb, shoving him into a wall remorselessly. She yanked the door to Robb’s room open only to see Talisa propped up on his bed, playing on her laptop without a care in the world.

 

“Your brother says the slime ball is staying for supper,” she told Sansa without looking up, “so you’re welcome to stay in here with me.”

 

“Are you lying about being sick?” Sansa was half annoyed, half amused.

 

“Pregnant,” Talisa pointed to her belly like that was the end all, be all of the conversation.

 

“Well, I’m going to be brave and suck it up,” Sansa declared, “but I want you to know that I thought these were contractions and I was very excited.”

 

“Just Braxton Hicks,” Talisa nonchalantly rubbed her belly and Sansa gasped.

 

“How will you know if they’re the real things then?”

 

“I am a nurse,” Talisa reminded her, “this is my job.”

 

“You’re a coward,” Sansa accused as she backed out of the room. She shut the door and headed back for the stairs, pausing when she heard that Sandor was speaking to Bran.

 

“—-and just lean on me, yeah.”

 

“It’s the cold,” Bran was telling him, as Sansa stood out of sight. “My legs get tight.”

 

“Need more layers next time,” Sandor advised and Bran chuckled.

 

“Yeah, but it’s worth it to be outside with everyone.”

 

“Well, next time I need a ref for a pickup game, I’ll call you. Talisa is biased.”

 

Sansa poked her head out, looking up the stairs. Sandor had Bran’s arm slung over his shoulder, so that he was helping Bran up the stairs. Sansa stopped, her heart unexpectedly clenching. In the bustle of her family, Bran could be overlooked, but Sandor was here to help him.

 

“Keep telling my dad to put in an elevator.”

 

“Nah, I think you need the little stair cart. Can go up and down that shit in style.”

 

“Rickon would break that so fast,” Bran laughed and Sansa covered her mouth so that they wouldn’t hear the laugh-sob that she was trying to suppress.

 

“Alright, good point,” Sandor conceded and Sansa waited until they got to the top of the stairs to step out, purposefully making a large amount of noise as she charged up the steps.

 

“What’s for supper?” she heard Bran ask their mother as he grabbed his cane from beside the door. Sandor turned and looked down the stairs.

 

“Talisa okay?” he asked her, concerned, and Sansa nodded.

 

“Fine, just fine,” she told him before wrapping him into a tight hug. He squeezed her back after a bewildered pause.

 

“What’s this for?” he asked her lowly and she knew that her parents and Petyr must be looking at her, but she didn’t care.

 

“Because you’re you,” she whispered back and that seemed to be a good enough answer because he kissed her head before she let him go.

 

“We’re having ribs,” Catelyn told them when Sansa turned and saw that Rickon’s friends were all lining up so they could file through the kitchen with paper plates to serve themselves buffet style before going to where Catelyn had them seated in the garage. Sansa personally couldn’t argue with her mother’s choice; it was easier to wash down concrete floors than hardwood, but that meant that the indoor table would be limited to herself, Sandor, her parents, Robb, Bran, Arya, and Petyr. It almost made her wish for Lysa, just for a distraction.

 

“I can whip myself something else up,” Sansa offered, going to the fridge to see what they had. “Talisa too, if she’s not feeling well.”

 

“She’s not?” Catelyn asked sharply and Robb sighed.

 

“She’s fine, just resting. I told her I’d make her something simple, not so rich. For her stomach.”

 

“I thought her people liked rich things,” Catelyn said archly and Sansa about slammed the fridge shut to give her a mother a look of disbelief but Arya already had it covered, yelling from the bottom of the stairs,

 

“That’s racist!”

 

“Well,” Catelyn went to defend herself, but Sansa stopped her by shouting back,

 

“Arya! Do you want something vegetarian?”

 

“Pasta!”

 

“Really you two, shouting like you don’t have Apple watches,” Ned berated affectionately, kissing Sansa’s head as she pulled ingredients out.

 

“Makes me feel like we’re kids again,” Sansa explained with a smile and that softened even Catelyn.

 

She helped her mother set the table while the pasta boiled then directed traffic through the kitchen before she had to finish the meal. She’d made herself and her sister a simple pesto pasta and tossed in cheese from the fridge before sending plain buttered noddles down to Talisa. If Catelyn was annoyed that her daughters were missing out on the ribs she didn’t say anything. Sansa suspected that she was a little bit grateful, since Rickon’s friends were ravenous and Sandor’s plate was heaping.

 

“We could have a nicer prayer tonight,” Ned remarked as they all sat down, Sansa between Sandor and Robb but across from Petyr. Catelyn lit up and so, a bit grudgingly, hands were clasped around the table for a second time.

 

“May I lead it?” Peytr interjected before Ned could speak and though he looked taken aback, Sansa’s father gave a gracious nod. Beneath the table, Arya’s foot somehow managed to find Sansa’s shin. “I think that we should all take a moment to reflect on our past. Be grateful for the bonds that we have and the relationships we cherish, while at the same time thinking on strengthening them in the future. This is a beautiful family and friendship we have, one that has taken years to develop, so let us cherish that fact. Amen.”

 

“Amen?” even Catelyn looked befuddled but Sansa didn’t give it too much thought. She eagerly dug into the pasta, while Sandor navigated eating his ribs without looking like a savage.

 

The topic of conversation was wide and varied, ranging from the football games that had been played to when the lake would be frozen enough for ice fishing and hockey, before going back to the flight schedule for Bran’s next trip to some doctor in Salt Lake City before Christmas.

 

“And you’ve changed the date of the christening, right?” Robb asked her, as he wiped his mouth clean of the ribs. Catelyn, delicately cutting her own, ignored the question before Arya added,

 

“Yeah, because as the godmother, I want to make sure I’ve got time to get use to holding the kiddo.”

 

“Oh, are you holding babies now?” Sansa teased. Arya had a long standing fear of children that was well known and she made a face at Sansa.

 

“I still think it’s best that we do it sooner rather than later,” Catelyn stated and Robb snickered.

 

“Why? Because you think the baby is going to go to hell if we don’t?”

 

“Given the way they were conceived, it might not hurt, would it?” Catelyn said tartly and both Sansa and Arya flinched. Even Ned looked apprehensive.

 

“We had sex mom,” Robb’s voice was low and his face red, which were two signs that never went well, “and I’m not saying sorry. We have sex, sometimes a lot. Sometimes twice a day.”

 

“Jesus Robb,” Arya looked like she’d like nothing more than to sink under the table and Sansa wasn’t far from joining her.

 

“Sansa has sex, I’m willing to bet so does Arya,” Robb said venomously and Sansa shrieked while Arya abruptly stood up from the table and turned away.

 

“Robb Hoster—“ Ned tried to intervene, delayed, but the damage was done. Catelyn was as pale as the fresh snow outside while Sansa felt like she’d been lit on fire inside.

 

“So don’t make us into monsters and don’t you fucking dare treat my kid any less because of the so called sins of the parents!”

 

The table practically exploded. Catelyn pushed her chair back with a scraping noise that was deafening, and both Ned and Robb stood, fury radiating off them. Sansa stood as well, unsure that her father and brother weren’t about to reach across the wood and start attempting to strangle each other. Catelyn dashed away, tears clearly evident, and Ned wavered between following her and fighting with Robb. In the end he chose Robb and the two of them headed for the door.

 

“Well, shit,” Bran said in the silence that fell after the explosion, “if they’re heading to the lake, this is as bad a fight as the engagement one.”

 

“Mom’s crying, not fainting,” Sansa said tiredly, standing and grabbing her dishes and Sandor’s, “so it cannot be any worse.”

 

“I’m going to the garage,” Bran announced and left. Sansa looked around at the mess on the table before giving Sandor a helpless look.

 

“Dishwasher?” he asked and Sansa nodded. She’d taken only a few steps towards the kitchen when Petyr spoke, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

 

“Quite a blowup from your brother then.”

 

“Well Petyr,” Sansa did her best to strive for politeness but was struggling, “since you’ve been friends with my family for so long, you should’ve known this was coming.”

 

“You have put your mother in a very stressful position,” Petyr explained, standing and leaving his own dirty dishes on the table. Sansa caught Sandor’s eye over Petyr’s shoulder; he looked astounded. “I think it would behoove you to put yourself in her place.”

 

“I’d rather not,” Sansa opened the dishwasher and began to cram dishes in recklessly.

 

“Perhaps we’d be able to talk about it a bit more privately?” Petyr suggested lowly, once he was close to Sansa. “You could send your, uh, beau away.”

 

“Like hell,” Sandor growled from the table where he was stacking cups but Sansa shot him a warning look. She could handle Petyr with the same careful touch that she had been doing since she turned 16 and developed breasts.

 

“Petyr,” she gave him the most glittering smile she could manage, “I know this must be tough on my mother. I know she shares things with you. But I am more than capable of handling anything on my own. Good coping skills.”

 

“You’re right, she does share things with me,” Petyr stated, glancing back over his shoulder and taking a step closer to her. Sansa bristled but she forced herself to stay where she was, holding her ground. “You dating this man? Sansa, it’s bringing so much stress to your mother. She just wants you to end up with someone who deserves you. Who’ll treat you right.”

 

“He does,” Sansa began but Petyr kept talking, apparently uncaring that Sandor was able to hear everything he said.

 

“I just think that you belong with someone of your own stature. You’ll make a perfect wife Sansa, the sort of wife that any man would love to have.”

 

“And that’s certainly what I’m going to school for,” Sansa said cheerfully but Petyr missed the blatant sarcasm in her voice.

 

“I understand youthful flings, but look at the situation your brother has found himself in. I would hate for such a distasteful thing to happen to you. I think that perhaps if you and I—“ and that was Petyr’s mistake. He stepped forward, to put his hand on Sansa’s waist. She was already recoiling, but it was unnecessary.

 

The sound of shattering glass was all the predicated Sandor’s sharp movement; with a quickness and grace Sansa was surprised at, he shot forward and took Petyr by the scruff of the neck so he could yank the smaller man away from Sansa. It was then that Sansa got her first in person glimpse of the formidable fighter that Sandor had been in his prime.

 

He had Petyr by the neck, pushing him into the wall before Sansa could blink. Petyr’s eyes were huge and his long fingers desperately clawed at the fist choking him but Sandor remained unbothered, leaning in so that he was an inch from Petyr’s face.

 

“Listen here, motherfucker,” Sandor rumbled, the thunder of a breaking storm, “if you ever put another goddamn hand on her, ever again, I will rip you limb from limb.”

 

“I— heeze— prumfph—” Petyr wheezed incomprehensibly but Sandor carried on, not an ounce of mercy in his entire body.

 

“Sansa can be with whoever she chooses. Me, not me, who the fuck ever. But she will never want you and if you ever try to suggest that you’re going to get anywhere near her, I will knock you the fuck out before the words leave your wormy little lips, do you understand me?”

 

“Heeese—“ Petyr was turning an interesting color; Sansa almost felt like it was a sangria shade.

 

“So from here on out, you’re never going to look at her again or speak to her. You won’t come up to her on campus and you won’t suggest that she’s worthy of being your little wife. You’re going to apologize to her, pick your sorry ass up, leave, and swear that you’re never going to think about Sansa Stark ever again,” Sandor ordered, his voice deadly serious. “Or I’ll come to that dirty fucking condo you think is so goddamn special and burn it the fuck down with you inside. Understand?”

 

“Hu-nuh-stuu,” Petyr gasped and when Sandor didn’t move to drop him, Sansa called warningly,

 

“Sandor!”

 

He released his fist and Petyr dropped a few inches to the floor, staggering slightly and massaging in his throat. The color was changing rapidly as he sucked in air and for a second it seemed as though he was going to regain his composure and fight back before Sandor puffed up to his full, impressive height and Petyr slunk out of the kitchen. Sansa watched him go in astonishment until the front door slammed before turning to Sandor.

 

“I know you said you could handle him,” he spoke, flexing his fist a few times, “but I had to step in. Sorry, little bird.”

 

“Sorry?” Sansa gaped at him. “Sorry? What if he comes after your job?”

 

“Got a buddy in the force,” Sandor told her offhandedly, “owes me a favor for getting his kids into the same preschool as the Parise twins. You think a guy like that doesn’t have some skeletons in his closet?”

 

“Are you sure?” Sansa asked lowly and Sandor nodded, shrugging.

 

“Besides, it’d be worth it if he never bothers you again.”

 

“Forget the dishes,” Sansa said reverently, crossing the short distance and jumping. Sandor caught her with just the slightest bit of hesitation and she wrapped her legs around him.

 

“But there’s glass,” he reminded her, glancing back at where he’d dropped dishes and they’d broke.

 

“Fuck that,” Sansa was kissing him, every inch that she could. “I can clean that up later. Bathroom, now.”

 

“Bathroom?” Sandor’s confusion was deepening but Sansa could feel him reacting to her as she grabbed his hair and pulled slightly.

 

“It has a lock,” she whispered and Sandor hastily went for the door.

 

“Now?” he asked as he maneuvered them through the door and set her on the sink counter.

 

“I need to fuck you now,” Sansa told him, shutting the door with her foot. Sandor locked it without ever taking his eyes off her, brow furrowed. “We’ve got like ten minutes. The boys are still eating, Mom’s got lots of tears, and Dad and Robb won’t run out of steam for awhile. Fuck me, now, Sandor Clegane.”

 

“Do I even get to ask what brought this on?” Sandor asked her then groaned slightly when she unzipped his pants and pushed them down in her haste.

 

“You’re fucking perfect is what,” Sansa told him, then grabbed one of her mom’s small hand towels and shoved it in his mouth. “Now hush or someone will hear.”

 

“I’ll do something else with my mouth,” Sandor took the towel out and tossed it aside.

 

“Then do it,” Sansa challenged, grabbing his dick and pulling it out of his boxers. Sandor grunted but turned his attention to her pants; simple running shorts she’d thrown on after her shower. The built in underwear was pushed aside and when she began to stroke his dick, he stuck one finger inside her, then two.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing their foreheads together. Sansa could only whimper in response; the angle of her on the counter combined with his fingers was making her stomach contract tightly. The pleasure that Sandor was so good at giving her was building so she pumped him faster and was rewarded when Sandor bit down on her shoulder.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, when he crooked his fingers and pressed deeper. “Jesus fuck, yes, fuck, fuck, oh my god, yes!”

 

“Quiet,” he reminded her with a smirk and Sansa wrapped a leg around his waist so that he came closer. Both hands went to his cock and Sandor’s attention to her was renewed. For a second they seemed to struggle over who was going to please the other first but Sansa decided to let him win; she always liked it better when she got to have him inside her.

 

“Right there,” she gasped when his tempo sped up and he grunted to show her his approval of her pleasure. “Please Sandor, right there, right — oh fuck! Fuck me, holy shit!”

 

Her whole body tensed with the orgasm; it felt more intense given the several days it’d been since the last time and she ended up taking a mouthful of Sandor’s shirt to keep herself from yelling any louder. The second it abated just slightly she jerked Sandor towards her and guided his tip to her before leaned back so that he could push himself into her.

 

“Holy fuck, little bird,” he moaned softly and Sansa went flush with pride that she could always make him react this way. She lifted her hips slightly so he had a better angle, when brought her lips to his ear and whispered in as sexy a voice as she could conjure,

 

“All I ever want is you, hard, inside me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it this whole time. I’ve just been waiting to fuck you.”

 

“Goddamn,” he grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged. Sansa just enjoyed it; she really had been craving him and this closeness but the fact that he was willing to do anything for her had pushed her over the edge. He was everything she’d ever wanted and she wanted to show him, somehow, that she would do whatever it took to protect him as well.

 

Sandor didn’t take long to finish; Sansa kept raking her nails over his back in the way she knew he liked and whispering dirty things in his ear. At the very last moment he withdrew himself and finished in the toilet, his whole body shaking. Sansa gingerly got off the counter, rearranging her shorts and grabbing a towel to wipe the granite clean.

 

“Good?” she asked him while he was zipping his pants up. He glanced at her with a tender expression of disbelief.

 

“I just got to have sex with you in the bathroom of your family’s house,” he kissed her forehead gently, “after I threatened the life of your mother’s friend,” he kissed her left cheekbone, “after your big brother told the table we have sex,” he kissed her right cheekbone, “and I damn near had my first fight in a few years,” he kissed her nose and looked at her. “I’m alright, little bird.”

 

“Good,” Sansa stretched up on her toes so that she could kiss him on the lips, “because the way you just did that for me means more than anything else. I—” she stopped herself from saying two more words, startled that she’d even considered it.

 

“I know,” Sandor said quickly, rescuing her from the unspoken that was now hanging between them.

 

“Okay,” she whispered and kissed him once more, still surprised.

 

“C’mon, we got a glass to clean up,” Sandor took her hand and opened up the bathroom door, checking in both directions.

 

“And I have a family to put back together,” Sansa sighed. Sandor squeezed her hand before they both left the tiny moment of bliss they’d created for themselves.

 

* * *

 

 

oc, rizzo, mac, jim craig, herb brooks - hockey players and the coach for the miracle. Something for everyone! Sweet boys. Angry boys. Dumb boys. 

 

"A lot of guys from Minnesota and Boston." - big rivalry between U of M and Boston. 

 

Herbies - hockey drill where you skate across the ice multiple times. 

 

Nicknames - so hockey players do this weird thing where they all have nicknames. basically you add an 's', an 'er', or 'sy' or 'ey'. so Kane=Kaner, Skinner=Skinney, Granlund=Granny, so on and so forth. Tell me your last name and I'll make you a hockey nickname! (unless you already have one then I want to know it so bad)

 

Dream On - the dance Sansa performs at the end of the movie is this one - and it's one of my alltime favs -  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_2I2ZNfEU8

 

Picking teams - the way hockey boys pick who gets to go first is by grabbing the stick hand over hand until the last one to reach the end of top wins. I don't recall having been taught this, I think hockey kids come out the womb knowing how to do it???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plz plz plz if you watch miracle or even just read about it, go yell about it in the comments. i would want nothing less.


	20. Heggies Pizza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!!!
> 
> i have to say that i am just so blessed to have all of you guys - your reviews make my entire life. thank you. thank you. i hope this chapter is everything you like. 
> 
> may the rest of your 2018 be merry and bright!

Sansa wasn't surprised that Arya didn't reappear that evening nor was she shocked that Robb and Talisa both left. Robb had enough friends around to house them for the night, but the quiet of the placwe was rather strange. Rickon went with some of his buddies at Sansa's insistence and Bran accompanied him, leaving herself and Sandor in the empty house.

 

"It's easier for them to be out of the house then, when all this stuff happens," Sansa told Sandor, as the two of them sat on the couch with ice cream, wine, and the dogs. 

 

"I understand that," Sandor said heavily and Sansa gave his beard a little scratch of sympathy. "Does it happen often?" 

 

"No," Sansa mused, "but more than it did. Or maybe it's just now I notice the things that happen here." 

 

"Isn't growing up fun?" Sandor gave a dark chuckle and spooned himself more Rocky Road. 

 

"When we were little, I always thought we were the happiest, sweetest family," Sansa said sadly, "and then we got a little older and I saw all the cracks. And mom and dad love each other, I don't doubt that. Sometimes I think they love each other more than they love us. But all the little things that I found out later, like the fact that my mom was sometimes cold to Jon because of the way his parents got together or that they're always trying to fix Bran when he's alright just the way he is." 

 

"I always thought having money meant that you'd be happy," Sandor told her as Sansa adjusted herself on his lap, pulling her phone from her back pocket as it started buzzing. 

 

"Yeah, it usually is -- Oh, Jon!" she looked down in surprise at her lock screen that showed a picture of Jon asleep amidst the pile of dogs. He was calling her and she nearly missed her chance to answer in her shock. 

 

"Heya Sanny," he answered and Sansa put it on speaker. 

 

"Hi, how are you?" 

 

"I'm alright, how are you doing there?" Jon's voice made all the dogs look up, ears pricked as they tried to find him. 

 

"Things are.... Tense," Sansa admitted, swirling her wine absentmindedly. "Did Robb call and tell you?"

 

"I got the Robb version," Jon said, a tinge of humor in his voice. 

 

"So short, angry, and entirely one sided?" 

 

"The Robb special," muttered Jon, "so I thought I'd call you since you're usually the last woman standing." 

 

"Today maybe, but I didn't expect to be," Sansa admitted, hitting the Facetime button. After a pause, Jon appeared on the screen in his dark apartment. 

 

"Oh, that's Sandor then," he said nonchalantly, when Sansa turned the phone slightly. 

 

"So Robb did get that out then?" 

 

"It was mentioned, briefly, between the rundown on Lysa, the rehashing of his fight with Cat, and the now standard rant against dad's old school ways," Jon explained and Sansa nodded thoughtfully.

 

"Oh, by the way Sandor, this is my brother-cousin Jon," she introduced them quickly, "and Jon, this is my boyfriend Sandor Clegane." 

 

"Brave man," Jon remarked and Sandor raised another spoonful of ice cream in a salute. 

 

"Well, what do you want clarification on?" Sansa turned the phone so that it faced Nymeria, whose tail began to beat a frantic tempo at the sight of Jon. 

 

"Well hey there pretty girl - hold on - let me call Ghost. Ghost! C'mere boy, come see your sister. And I don't know, I just feel like everything happened this one weekend, what the hell is going to happen when the kid's born? Or Christmas?"

 

"Hi G-man!" Sansa said in delight when Ghost appeared on the screen, looking like he was faintly glowing. Jon ruffled his neck before Ghost settled in beside him, staring imploringly at the screen. "And I don't know. Mom was mad I invited Sandor, she was still mad about Talisa, Lysa was a pistol, Petyr was the same old creep, and then Robb started yelling about everyone's sex life and that's when everyone dipped." 

 

"Yeah, Arya told me she was out when that happened," Jon laughed, "but I can't blame her." 

 

"Well the second that happened, of course dad lost it on Robb, so then they went to lake," Sansa went on and Jon's eyebrows raised. 

 

"Damn, that bad then?" 

 

"Well mom was out of line, but it wasn't exactly Robb's finest moment, shouting about our sex lives at the dinner table," mused Sansa and Sandor snickered. 

 

"Well, Robb loves the dramatics and so does your mom." 

 

"I know but it's like, can we have one normal minute in this place? Like, five minutes without someone crying, is it too much to ask?" 

 

"So how'd Cat take this?" Jon gestured between the two of them. 

 

"Splendidly," Sansa said, heavy on the sarcasm, "except for the fact that she hasn't looked me in the eye since." 

 

"Well silence is better than a hissy fit," Jon observed and Sansa groaned but didn't disagree. "Now I want to talk to Sandor."

 

"Is this where I get the 'she's my little sister and if you hurt her I'll kill you' chat?" Sandor asked curiously and Jon snorted. 

 

"No, that can come from Robb. I want to know if you think the Gophs have a shot in hell of beating BU." 

 

"You didn't even play hockey for the U," Sansa teased sweetly but handed the phone over, "I'm going to let out the dogs. You guys have fun." 

 

She let the dogs go to the bathroom in the backyard, then had to chase down Shaggy when he went after a squirrel. Huffing and puffing, she finally heaved the large dog back inside ten minutes later, where Sandor and Jon were still eagerly discussing hockey. 

 

"You good?" Sandor looked up as Sansa laid down on the floor, sweating. 

 

"Fine," she flashed him a thumbs up. 

 

"Well San, I should go to bed," Jon called loudly "or least get off the line so Robb can call me and bitch some more." 

 

"Fair enough," Sansa sat up so that she could see Jon waving goodbye, before reaching down and taking Ghost's paw so that he could wave as well. 

 

"Talk to you soon."

 

"Yeah, I'll text you with whatever happens next," Sansa said wryly, "love you." 

 

"Yeah, you too. Bye." 

 

"So that's Jon," she said, when the call ended. Sandor clicked off the phone, looking thoughtful. 

 

"I like him." 

 

"Most people do," Sansa remarked, rolling back down and dropping her knees to one side so she could stretch her back. 

 

"But I have a question," Sandor sounded wary and Sansa lifted her head to look at him quizzically. She'd never known him to not voice an opinion or ask questions. 

 

"Okay," she said slowly. 

 

"So I noticed that Jon calls your father 'dad' but he calls your mother 'Cat'," Sandor trailed off and Sansa snorted. 

 

"And you thought that was weird, did you?" 

 

"Didn't want to say anything but it struck me as odd," he admitted and Sansa switched her knees. 

 

"Jon's mom was dad's sister. Lyanna," she began, "and she never liked my mom. I don't think mom liked her either, but dad loved mom and he loved Lyanna so they all made it work. Mom and dad got married after college and settled down so dad could take over the business and mom could be a Stepford wife. Lyanna went the complete opposite direction; she went off and toured with a female rock band or something before she founded a commune in New Mexico." 

 

"And I'm guessing that was your mother's nightmare?" Sandor looked suitably impressed by Lyanna's past. 

 

"Yeah, down until the moment she had a baby out of wedlock," Sansa continued, "and decided to raise him there in the commune. The way Benjen tells it, mom about tried to call Child Services on them. But Lyanna and Jon's dad, Rae, died in a motorcycle accident when Jon and Robb were four years old. The commune tried to keep Jon, but dad got him back." 

 

"Wow," Sandor whistled, "that's wild." 

 

"Yeah, so Jon came to live with us and I think mom thought it was going to be her great charitable moment you know, taking in the little orphan boy like one of her own. Jon... did not adhere to her ideas of what children should be. He was a quiet kid but he got all of us into mischief. And sometimes I think it was because he wanted to spite her. 

 

"He loved my dad though and him and Robb were best friends. They'd go to the Boundary Waters, the three of them and then Theon when we got him. So it was natural for him to call our dad his dad, because dad never treated him any differently. But I don't think my mom ever quite made the same effort and so Jon never called her mom. Just Cat." 

 

"Does it bother your mother?" Sandor asked lowly and Sansa rolled up and down her spine a few times before popping up onto her feet with a shrug. 

 

"Jon's never brought it up and neither has mom. And when the hell are we going to talk it out in this family?" 

 

"Interesting," Sandor seemed deep in thought, so Sansa picked up the empty ice cream container and tossed it in the trash before offering her hands to Sandor.

 

"Let's go to bed."

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, she rolled over groggily and flung her arm out, waiting to hit the hard planes of Sandor's chest or Lady's mass of fur. When she found neither she opened her eyes and squinted in the weak morning light. Neither her dog nor boyfriend were in bed or anywhere else in her room. 

 

Sansa got up, unconcerned. She was sure Sandor had just migrated to the couch to watch something but when she went to brush her teeth, the basement seemed empty. Frowning, she pulled her hair up into a bun and went for the stairs. She could hear voices upstairs; it seemed like maybe Robb and Talisa had came back. Sansa paused, listening, before her whole body went cold.

 

The voices were clearly that of Sandor and her mother; talking and drinking coffee if the sound of the clinking of ceramic mugs against the granite was anything to go off of. Sansa leaned against the wall, pressing her fingers to her lips and straining to hear what was going on. No one was shouting, that she was grateful for.

 

“—And that’s why I left,” Sandor was saying.

 

“Well, I can certainly see how that would impact you at such a young age,” Catelyn sounded tense but not angry, a fine line Sansa had learned to distinguish many Sunday mornings in church.

 

“I wasn’t a pleasant teenager, I can tell you that much,” Sandor, on the other hand, was mustering all his faux politeness.

 

“My sincerest apologies.”

 

“See, that’s the thing. When I told Sansa this story, she didn’t offer me pity, real or contrived,” Sandor said and Sansa felt faint. Did he tell her mother the story of his scar, of his family?

 

“She didn’t?” Catelyn sounded startled.

 

“No. She asked me if I was an orphan, then told me she had enough family to go around.”

 

“Well, that’s certainly sweet of her,” said Catelyn slowly.

 

“Not sweet,” Sandor corrected, “special. Your daughter is unlike any other person I have ever met in my entire life. I tell people that story, I get horror. Revulsion. Sometimes pity, sometimes disbelief. It usually changes how a person treats me. But your daughter? She heard that someone had hurt me, that the people around me had died or left me on my own and she didn’t think to offer me empty condolences. She offered me everything that she had, and it was her family. You.”

 

“Sansa has always been an open-hearted child,” Catelyn’s voice was so soft Sansa nearly missed it.

 

“She knows that you guys aren’t perfect. I can give her shit for it, but she actively acknowledges her flaws and privilege. She works to be a better person. Can I ask you one thing?”

 

“Alright then.”

 

“Why did you raise her to put everyone else before herself? Was selfishness really the worst trait you thought she could have?” Sandor was light, but the question was deep.

 

"That is what's expected of young woman of her status," Catelyn said frostily and Sansa winched. 

 

"The thing is, it's not. Not anymore," Sandor corrected, "and Sansa has internalized this bullshit, which is why she puts up with a lot she shouldn't, like the fact that one of your friends has been making passes at her, despite her not wanting anything to do with him." 

 

"If you are referring to Petyr, I can assure you, he has never stepped outside the boundaries of propriety--" 

 

"Not for you, maybe," Sandor cut her off, "but have you asked your daughter lately? Sansa herself, or any of your other children? Everyone knows that he's creepy, especially to her. And Sansa does nothing because she thinks that's what is expected of her and you do nothing to protect her from him."

 

"I was born and raised with Petyr. He is an old, close, dear friend who has powerful friends. He certainly watches out for Sansa more than the other's, but that is more out of fatherly love than desire, I assure you," Catelyn snapped and Sandor snorted. 

 

"And I can assure you, he wants to sleep with her. Maybe do a whole lot worse." 

 

"Perhaps he's gotten the wrong impression from her current companion," Catelyn declared and Sansa's whole body went cold. For a long few moments, she expected Sandor to flip and curse her mother out, before he simply chuckled. 

 

"You know Catelyn, I'll give you this. You've done what's expected of a mother. You feed your kids, clothe them, keep a roof over their heads, and mostly protect them from evil. You did more than my own mother ever would've and I suppose you deserve credit for that. But there's going to come a day when you're going to drive your children out with your expectations for their blind obedience to you. Maybe I'll be the person at Sansa's side when she decides to go, or maybe I won't. It doesn't matter. Because as long as that girl wants me in her life, I'm going to work to give her my unconditional love. Can you say the same?" 

 

The scraping of the stool on the hardwood meant that Sandor was clearly standing up and Sansa jolted back to life. She stumbled down the stairs as quietly as she could then flung herself onto the couch. She managed to get her phone out just as he came down the stairs and paused at the bottom. 

 

"Oh, hey," she glanced up, trying to control the fact that her chest was heaving, "where were you?" 

 

"Getting coffee," he said, a little suspiciously and Sansa gave him a too- bright smile. 

 

"We could go into town and get coffee somewhere if you'd like!" 

 

"You know what I'd like?" Sandor sat down beside her on the couch and stretched out languidly. 

 

"What?" Sansa asked after a long pause and Lady came prancing down the stairs to launch herself into their laps. 

 

"We're going to watch shitty documentaries about aliens, how's that?" 

 

"Perfect," Sansa snuggled into his chest and finally exhaled. 

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Is it safe to come back then or what_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_only if you shut the fuck up about sex_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Rickon and I are coming home for lunch_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_did mom demand that or what_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_No but I stuffed a Heggies Pizza at the bottom of the freezer and I'm having it_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Mom hasn't said anything to me at all today_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_ya me either_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Alright first one home gets the pizza then_

 

_suckers I never left_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_SANSA DON'T YOU DARE_

 

"Do you want pizza for lunch?" she asked Sandor, stretching as the man on screen intoned about how aliens were responsible for the railroad.

 

"I always want pizza," Sandor declared and Sansa extended her hands to yank him to his feet. Upstairs was quiet and both Ned and Catelyn were nowhere to be found. Sansa rummaged through the freezer and found Bran's stashed treasure but bypassed it in favor of the spinach and garlic one that was beneath the mountain of frozen meat. She set it up on the pizzaz, humming and swaying around the kitchen while they waited. 

 

"SANSA!" Bran burst into the house with a yell to rival Rickon and Sansa spun, raising an eyebrow. Bran was on Rickon's back and was brandishing his cane furiously, attention clearly focused on the slowly rotating pizzaz. "I SAID IT WAS MINE!" 

 

"Which is why I'm making a different one," Sansa said smoothly and Bran deflated slightly. 

 

"Oh, you are?" 

 

"Yours is in the freezer, loser."

 

"You're the best sister ever," Rickon dove for the freezer and came up with Bran's pizza as well as an entire bag of pizza rolls for himself. Sansa put them in the oven for them as Rickon went for the couch and remote. 

 

"So do you know where mom and dad are?" Bran asked and Sansa shrugged, getting plates for them all. 

 

"No, I haven't seen them at all today," she lied and Sandor looked up and out the window. 

 

"Weird." 

 

"What are we going to do today?" Rickon yelled from the couch. 

 

"You're not playing more Fortnite," Sansa ordered and he groaned. 

 

"This place is so boring without the boat! And the ice isn't even frozen so I can't fish and there's nothing to do." 

 

"Text your big brother and sister and see what they want to do. We could do something fun together," Sansa suggested and Bran snorted. 

 

"Like what, going to Three Bears?" 

 

In the end, Robb and Talisa arrived home just as Bran finished his pizza, and Arya was back shortly thereafter. They ended up passing the entire afternoon digging through closets and drawers looking for any Christmas presents that might have been hidden and instead turning up old toys, photo albums, and memorably, the Game Boy that Arya had hidden from Rickon out of spite five summers ago and had been lost since. 

 

"Should we see what mom and dad are doing?" Sansa asked finally, as dusk was setting in and they were all laying around the living room watching tv - other than Rickon, who was on the floor, anxiously watching his Game Boy charge. 

 

"Absolutely not," Arya stated, "this is the first Thanksgiving break in memory that I haven't had to help mom with Christmas stuff and we're not ruining that." 

 

"But still," Sansa was nervous that something was seriously wrong. They'd gone nearly the whole day without hearing from either parent and it wasn't like them to disappear without anything. 

 

"Sansa," Robb sounded weary, "maybe they just needed some time away. It's not exactly like it was a pleasant Thanksgiving." 

 

"What are you talking about, I had a blast," Sandor deadpanned and Sansa threw an elbow into his ribs. 

 

"I mean, she's got a point," Bran stated and they all looked to him, "since if mom doesn't come home, we're going to have to cook for ourselves." 

 

"There is enough leftovers in the fridge to feed a small army," Talisa threw a pillow at him. 

 

"Yeah and that's enough for you but what around the rest of us?" Bran teased and Talisa glared at him before snapping her fingers. 

 

"Sandor, attack him."

 

"Why me?" Sandor asked, chuckling. 

 

"Because you're the strongest," she reasoned and Robb made a noise of protest.

 

"Really?" Arya looked at her older brother in disbelief and Robb puffed up like he was going to fight it before deflating some and shrugging. 

 

"Yeah, okay."

 

"I can make stuff," Sansa rose and went to the fridge, opening it and critically inspecting the contents. 

 

"I can help," offered Arya, to her surprise.

 

"Sure," Sansa handed her the stuffing, delighted as the pair of them worked to reheat the leftovers and create a mini-Thanksgiving spread on the counter. They all ate and were just cleaning up when the front door opened. Seven heads swiveled on necks to watch at Catelyn and Ned stepped back inside. 

 

"You guys already ate?" asked Ned, as though it was normal for him to come home after being missing for most of the day. 

 

"Uh, yeah," Arya watched as Catelyn shed her coat, hung it up, and came to help them with the mess. 

 

"Guess I'll have to eat that pizza Bran's been hiding," Ned remarked and Bran lifted his head from where he was on the couch. 

 

"Beat you to it dad." 

 

"Then looks like I'm going to have to scrounge up leftovers," Ned declared and Sansa went to the fridge. 

 

"I can make you a sandwich dad." 

 

"Thanks peanut," Ned said, then asked, with a tone of incredibly forced lightness, "Robb, can you come see this email I got? In my study?" 

 

"Oh fuck," Sansa heard Robb mutter when he rolled off the couch and saw that Talisa grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. As he passed his siblings, they all gave him sympathetic looks but no one made a move to stop him. 

 

Sansa prepared the sandwich and threw some chips and leftover mac and cheese on the plate before going to the study door, easing it open. Inside, her father and Robb actually were studying something on the computer screen so Sansa left the plate and hastily exited. 

 

"Well, I really should be doing homework," Arya was announcing when Sansa got back to the kitchen. 

 

"Me too," Bran stated and Rickon held up his Game Boy. 

 

"It lives!" 

 

"Where did you find that?" Catelyn asked incredulously and Rickon shrugged while he followed his older siblings downstairs. 

 

"I think I need some tea for my stomach," Talisa was rubbing her belly, looking a little green. Sansa went to electric kettle but Catelyn beat her there, flipping the switch before opening the cupboard. 

 

"Green, chamomile, lemon ginger, honey lavender, mint, or peach raspberry?" Catelyn asked and Talisa blinked several times. 

 

"Mint, please." 

 

"Of course," Catelyn pulled out the jar of loose leaf tea and went to get a mug. Sansa snuck a glance at Talisa, who looked just as bewildered as she was. 

 

"Thank you," she said finally, as though just remembering her manners. 

 

"Of course dear," Catelyn bustled about the kitchen and Sansa moved aside, just a little confused. "Now I've been meaning to talk to you about the baptism." 

 

"What about it?" Talisa's shoulders instantly hiked a very inches higher and Sandor looked as though he was going to take cover beneath the couch cushions shortly. 

 

"Well, I told the priest at St. Paul's that we would like to do the baptism during a Sunday mass," Catelyn declared and Sansa's stomach churned at the fear in Talisa's eyes. "I know your parents would like to fly in and Robb has requested we delay for a bit to allow that. How soon can they be here?" 

 

"Oh," Talisa was relaxing in half-millimeters increments, "I was hoping they would be here before the birth. I think they are looking at tickets for before Christmas." 

 

"Oh, all of us home for the holidays," Catelyn cheered and if there was strain in her voice, she hid it well. "And a new baby!" 

 

"Except that I only have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off," Sansa reminded her apologetically. 

 

"Why?" Sandor looked up at that. 

 

"Dance," she explained, "Nationals is like a month later so Mel has us training every single day. And mom, don't forget, Rickon has the holiday classic in there, and practices." 

 

"So we will have everyone here Christmas morning," Catelyn stated, "and be together as a family then."

 

"Good luck," Sandor mouthed to Sansa and she raised a wry eyebrow back, wondering when she was going to tell him that he was coming as well. 

 

"So then when should we have the baptism? Perhaps the new year?" Catelyn suggested and the kettle dinged. She poured the mug of tea, blew on it gently, and brought it over to Talisa, settling on the couch a short distance away. 

 

"I think that might work," Talisa said tentatively and Catelyn smiled. 

 

"Wonderful. You know, we still have the christening dress that my father was baptized in. All of my kids wore it, and I'm sure my family would be delighted to loan it to you as well; the last one in it was Robin, so we might need to track it down from Lysa...." 

 

Sansa and Sandor beat a hasty retreat downstairs as Talisa and Catelyn chatted about details like invites and if cucumber sandwiches were too bland for the party. Her younger siblings were downstairs and when Sansa told them what had transpired, all stared at her in shock. 

 

"But mom doesn't just.... Play nice," said Arya lamely. 

 

"She is about this," Sansa sat down on the couch between Nymeria and Summer, both who offered their bellies for scratches. 

 

"Maybe the first grandkid is making her go soft," Bran suggested and Arya snorted. 

 

"The only thing soft about mom is her expensive sweaters." 

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa couldn’t sleep. Lady was laying over her knees, too hot, and Sandor was snoring ever so lightly, right in her ear. She’d been trying to sleep for the better part of an hour now and had been failing miserably. With a sigh, she eased herself out of bed and snuck out the door. Upstairs she went, hoping that tea would help and if it didn’t, trying to think of where her mother kept her sleeping pills.

 

She was rummaging through the cabinets in search of a mug when her mother spoke from the darkness.

 

“You can’t sleep either?”

 

“Jesus fuck mom,” Sansa swore, pressing a hand to her heart.

 

“Sansa, language,” admonished Catelyn and Sansa smiled despite herself.

 

“Sorry mom, you scared me. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

 

“Can’t sleep,” Catelyn said, as though that explained why she was sitting in darkness at the kitchen table, staring at the grains of wood.

 

“I’m making tea, do you want some?” Sansa offered and Catelyn gave a small, hollow laugh.

 

“No sweetheart, this isn’t the sort of thing tea solves.”

 

“But grandma Minny says tea solves everything,” Sansa teased and Catelyn’s smile was a weary one.

 

“Your grandmother does believe that, yes.”

 

“Why can’t you sleep mom?” waiting for the kettle to warm up, Sansa went to the table. Beyond them, the lake gleamed in the moonlight with the fresh cover of snow.

 

“Your father and I went to Maddens today, to the spa,” Catelyn revealed and Sansa made a mental note to tell her siblings, “he thought we needed it, after everything.”

 

“Thanksgiving is stressful,” Sansa agreed though she was jealous she hadn’t though of the activity for herself and Sandor.

 

“It wasn’t just Thanksgiving dear, it’s been everything,” Catelyn said heavily and when the kettle dinged, Sansa poured two mugs of tea. “Have I been a good mother to you?”

 

“Oh,” Sansa slid the mug across to her mother and sat down, surprised by the question. “I mean, yeah, mom. Yeah, of course.”

 

"It's just that you were so easy," Catelyn mused, "from the moment we brought you home, you never cried. Robb crawled into your crib once and was driving his trucks over you and you just laid there and watched him." 

 

"How nice of him," Sansa remarked dryly. 

 

"You were so easy, you always did exactly what I asked from you. And everyone else, for that matter. You were so eager to help everyone, I never had to give you a second thought. Robb and the boys, they were little devils and they dragged Arya into it. But you were my little angel." 

 

"Well," Sansa muttered, biting back reproachful words that were bubbling up. She wanted to tell her mother that just because she was a quiet, easy child didn't make Catelyn's indifference any easier. That it was just as hard to be the perfect daughter as anything else. That she sometimes felt like she was screaming into a void behind the smiling mask of a pretty young woman. 

 

"No, but I shouldn't have asked that of you," to Sansa's surprise, Catelyn reached across the table and grasped her hand tightly. "I should've known better Sansa; that was how my mother treated Lysa and I and I hated every minute. I was so resentful to her for so long and now I've done the same with you." 

 

"I mean, I'm not resentful," Sansa said quickly and Catelyn gave her a squeeze. 

 

"It's alright Sansa, you can say it. I tried to be a better mother than her but somewhere along the lines I became her," Catelyn gave a humorless laugh and brought a hand over her face. "I know that I've been a bad mother." 

 

"You're not a bad mother," Sansa tried to cajole her, "you just have a parenting style that maybe isn't best suited for several of your children." 

 

"You're sweet for trying to find a way to say that I can do better," Catelyn thanked her with a wry smile and Sansa took a sip of her tea as Catelyn looked to the portrait on the wall of her parents. 

 

"Did it get better?" Sansa asked tentatively, after a few moments of silence.

 

 "Did what?" Catelyn turned back to her. 

 

"Your relationship with grandma." 

 

"Grandma? A little," mused Catelyn and Sansa noticed that they both had the same way of holding their mugs; long fingers wrapped around it and just the tips intertwined. "But not Lysa, clearly." 

 

"Well, she has her own set of issues," Sansa snorted and Catelyn smiled faintly. 

 

"No, your grandmother and I became closer when they moved to Florida. I think the distance helped. She wasn't here to look over my shoulder at every little thing. I could make mistakes with you kids and didn't have to deal with her commenting. I heard less about Lysa, Edmund, how they were doing this or that right when I was failing." 

 

"Edmund was arrested in the Dominican for cocaine possession and hookers," Sansa reminded her mother and Catelyn took a long drink of tea. 

 

"That's behind him now," she said delicately but still smiled at Sansa. Sansa grinned back. This was what she had missed. Her mother had a sense of humor, buried under rigid protocol and upbringing. She just had to find it. "I don't want the same for you or any of your siblings. That my absence is better for you all."

 

"Can I offer some advice then?" Sansa asked hesitantly and Catelyn tapped the side of the mug. 

 

"I would like that," she said finally and Sansa exhaled. 

 

"Talisa is great mom, she's really, really great. And I know she's maybe not who you wanted for Robb or maybe not who you wanted at all, but she is amazing. And she's so good for Robb. Just, like, give her a chance," Sansa said eagerly and Catelyn's shoulders stiffened, but she nodded. 

 

"I've come to accept," she was clearly choosing her words with care, "that she is part of my family, forever. And whether her intentions were pure in the beginning does not matter now, because she is the mother of my grandchild." 

 

"And Robb's wife," Sansa prompted, but she was pleased with her mother's progress. Catelyn took a sip of tea before asking, 

 

"Anything else?" 

 

"Don't judge Arya for Robb and I's mistakes," Sansa added carefully. "I know she's a pain but she's a good kid, deep down, and I think that she's really on the right track." 

 

"Have you two started getting along better?" Catelyn looked curious and Sansa looked down at her cooling mug. 

 

"I think we're going to start," she decided and didn't miss the soft smile on her mom's face. 

 

"Well I'll do my best with your sister and hope that the piercings and tattoos and weed is only a phase," she said ruefully and Sansa snickered. 

 

"I think you can keep dreaming," she said and Catelyn gave an over dramatic sigh. 

 

"What about your other siblings then?" Catelyn leaned back in her chair. "What advice do you have there?" 

 

"Call Jon more," Sansa said immediately, "because I know it doesn't seem like it but he really loves our family and we need to include him more." 

 

"Alright," Catelyn struggled for a few seconds and Sansa took pity on her. 

 

"I know, I'm not exactly the poster child for treating Jon like a real big brother. But he should be," Sansa said earnestly and Catelyn nodded. 

 

"I agree." 

 

"And Bran is fine," Sansa was on a roll now, so she went with everything that had been on her mind. "Ask him if he wants to go see all those doctors and specialists and therapy. He's a really smart kid and he's old enough to start making these decisions himself. If he feels like it's important then he will tell you. Oh, and let Rickon go nuts. But only like once a month." 

 

"Once a month," Catelyn echoed, looking contemplative. 

 

"Yeah, let him have a Red Bull and go throw an ax at a tree or something," Sansa suggested and Catelyn burst into laughter, true belly laughter. After a second Sansa joined in and moments later they were crying, unable to look at each other without bursting into fresh giggles. 

 

"I am not giving your brother an ax," Catelyn said finally, wiping tears from her eyes. 

 

"That might be for the best," Sansa snorted and then took a deep breath. "Oh, that hurts my abs." 

 

"Thank you," her mother said unexpectedly and Sansa looked up at her. "I.... Your father and I aren't perfect, but I promise you Sansa, we love you all so much." 

 

"We know that mom," Sansa told her and meant it. Despite the faults she found in her parents, she never doubted that she was loved. 

 

"I have one more thing," Catelyn's voice trembled and she looked down, holding tight to the mug. "Did.... Has.... Does Petyr make you uncomfortable?" 

 

"Ah," Sansa pressed her lips together tightly and tried to freeze her face into a neutral expression. 

 

"I've always seen him as my oldest, loyalest friend," Catelyn went on, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I thought he would be good for you kids, to have him on our side if we ever need it but if he's done or said anything to you, Sansa...." 

 

"Mom, he's awful," it all slipped out of Sansa now, "and he's said some weird shit to me. When I was sixteen he told me that I had nice legs and some man was going to find a lot of happiness between them." 

 

"He what?" Catelyn looked stunned and Sansa couldn't control herself. 

 

"And when I was eighteen he said that I was prettier than the last time he saw me which was when I was seventeen and when I was twenty he told me he knew a party that would serve me booze if I went as his date and he stares at me mom, so much." 

 

"Sansa," Catelyn was flabbergasted, pressing her fingers to her lips. "Why didn't you say anything?" 

 

"Because he was your friend," Sansa said helplessly, "and sometimes dad's friends would say weird shit like that but it just sort of comes with the territory when you spend your time prancing around in a leotard and makeup. But then it kept coming and it kept getting weirder and then, well, I met Sandor." 

 

"Why didn't you tell your father?" Catelyn appeared distraught and Sansa couldn't help that her nose scrunched up. 

 

"What daughter tells her dad that a man mentioned to her that her flexibility is an asset to a future husband?"

 

 "Alright," Catelyn stood abruptly, "enough is enough. I'm going to speak to Petyr. He's no longer welcome here." 

 

"Mom, it's like one in the morning," Sansa glanced out into the darkness. 

 

"Tomorrow then," Catelyn vowed and Sansa stood as well, crossing the table to wrap her mother into a hug.

 

"Thanks, mom," she said thickly and Catelyn gave a tight squeeze. 

 

"I'm going to try to be better," she whispered and Sansa gave a hiccup, half a sob and half a chuckle. 

 

"I do love you mom." 

 

"And you know what?" Catelyn held Sansa out at arm's length and gave her a watery smile. "I think I like Sandor?" 

 

"Me too," Sansa responded and pulled her mother in for another hug.

 

* * *

 

 

Sunday morning dawned bright, still, and most suspiciously of all, quiet. Sansa laid in bed and rubbed Lady's head, watching as the clock on her laptop ticked steadily from 8 to 8:30, then to 9. Sandor snored beside her, oblivious to how disconcerting the whole thing was. 

 

At 9:15 sharp, Bran and Rickon both crept into her room, the two of them looking like guilty thieves. Shaggy jumped up onto the bed, landing heavily on Sandor's chest. He groaned, only to be shushed by all the Stark children.

 

"Whaz-gun-on?" he asked groggily, trying to push Shaggy off him. 

 

"Hush!" Sansa hissed and he blinked, looking at her before at the boys. 

 

"Wazzup?" he asked again, this time quieter. 

 

"We don't want to wake up mom," Bran whispered, as if this was an explanation. 

 

"Are the others up?" Sansa questioned and Bran shrugged, pulling out his phone. 

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Are you guys up or what_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_Robb's room_

 

"What are we doing?" Sandor was bewildered, as all the Stark kids began to creep towards the door, stepping lightly. 

 

"Don't make any noise," Sansa warned him, sliding out of bed and easing to the door. 

 

"What the fuck?" Sandor came behind her, as quietly as he could move his large frame. Ahead of them, Bran was opening the door to Robb's room as noiselessly as he could. Inside, Robb and Talisa were still in bed while Arya was on the futon with her laptop. 

 

"What's the last time we'd make?" Robb was asking Arya, who typed furiously on her laptop. 

 

"Last mass is 9:30 on Sundays." 

 

"So we'd still make it," Robb consulted his watch.

 

"We'd be safe at what, 9:20?" Sansa asked, sitting down on the floor. Sandor sat next to her. 

 

"Yeah, unless she's going to spring it on us. Dad could get to the church in 7 minutes if he really flew," Robb stroked his patchy beard thoughtfully. 

 

"No chance she would though. She'd want us girls to look nice," Arya scoffed. 

 

"Unless she thinks we know better and should be getting ready," Sansa suggested and for a moment, there was fear on all their faces. 

 

"No," Bran recovered first, "she would have heard us all getting ready. She knows we're quiet, that means we're not getting ready." 

 

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Sandor asked politely, to the room at large. 

 

"Mom always makes us go to church on Sundays," Rickon was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling like he was going to stare through it. 

 

"So the fact that we're not be trussed up and carted off is unheard of," Arya added. 

 

"Maybe it has to do with wherever she went with your father yesterday," Talisa piped up and Sansa thought of her conversation with her mother last night. Now it seemed like a fever dream.

 

"Maybe she's sick?" 

 

"Abducted by aliens?" 

 

"Oh fuck, what if she'd dead?" 

 

'Wait!" Arya held up a hand, listening intently. They all fell silent, only to hear the faint noises of someone in the kitchen.  

 

"Do we risk it?" Robb looked around and slowly they all nodded; by consensus then they moved to the stairs, doing their best to eavesdrop. 

 

"Grab me the eggs, dear." 

 

"Here, honey. Do you think they'll want french toast?" 

 

"Can't hurt. Where's the waffle maker?" 

 

"If they're making breakfast, we're not making church," Bran declared and since it was now deemed safe, they clambered up the stairs. 

 

"Well good morning," Ned cried as they reached the top. "Everyone's up I see." 

 

"Can I have an omelet?" Rickon bounded into the kitchen eagerly. The rest of the kids hung back, wary of some sort of trap. 

 

"We only have the morning together before everyone goes off," Catelyn explained, flipping a pancake. "I thought church could wait." 

 

"It's definitely aliens," Arya muttered and Sansa elbowed her as she steered Sandor to the table. 

 

"Looks great!" 

 

Breakfast was a surprisingly cheery affair, with lively conversation and gentle teasing abounding. Departures were announced; Sansa was flabbergasted when Arya said that she'd ride home with Sansa and Sandor, since they were leaving after lunch which was earlier than Robb and Talisa. 

 

"Please run the dogs before we leave," Catelyn called when breakfast was done, over the din of scraping chairs and clattering plates. 

 

"Want to go for a jog?" Sansa asked her siblings. 

 

"Nah, we can sled dog them," Arya said, glancing back at Rickon and Bran who nodded. 

 

"Robb can jog," Talisa said innocently and Robb looked at his wife, affronted. 

 

"What are you trying to say?" 

 

"Have you felt the baby kick yet?" Talisa placed a hand on Robb's gut and he glowered at her. "It's a magical feeling." 

 

"Alright, I'll run," Robb grumbled. 

 

"What's sled dog?" Sandor asked Sansa as they put plates in the dishwasher. 

 

"You'll see," she responded mischievously, kissing his cheek. 

 

Sansa, Robb, and Sandor readied for their run, Talisa readied for a nap, and Arya, Rickon, and Bran disappeared into the garage. The three runners set out with Grey Wind and Lady, jogging down the road. They weren't more than half a mile in when Arya, Bran, and Rickon raced past them. Bran was sitting on his longboard but Arya and Rickon were both standing, and each of them was holding tight to a leash to their respective huskies. 

 

"Sled dog," Sansa saw Sandor say, an impressed look on his face. Sansa grinned as Arya tried to cut Rickon off and heard through her headphones Rickon's yell for Shaggy to go faster. When they finally turned and head for home, they were passed once again, though this time the dogs' gaits were slower. 

 

"So what'd you think?" Sansa asked Sandor, panting slightly, when they slowed to a walk in the driveway. 

 

"Interesting," Sandor responded, "how long did it take to train them?" 

 

"Not long," remarked Robb, giving Grey Wind a pat, "I think they loved it the first time we did it." 

 

"Huh," looking suitably impressed, Sandor let them all back into the house. 

 

They showered and packed up, chasing down the bits and pieces that seemed to spread over the entire house. Lady crawled into Sansa's bag and cried loudly when Sansa told her to get out. Sansa promised her that she would be home again soon and covered her face with kisses until it was lunchtime and then they were loading up the Jeep. Rickon helped, eagerly demanding to know when Sandor would be back to visit. 

 

"Christmas," Sansa suggested and Sandor raised an eyebrow back. 

 

"Drive safe," Ned gave Sansa a tight hug as they were ready to go and Sansa reached up to kiss his cheek. 

 

"Thanks, dad." 

 

"Let me know when you get back?" Catelyn implored and Sansa nodded, hugging her and kissing her cheek as well. 

 

"Love you mom."

 

"Be good!" Catelyn and Ned waved them off and Sansa climbed into the driver's seat, Sandor beside her and Arya in the back. 

 

"Let's get out of here," Arya groaned, stretching out. "God, that was a weird holiday. Good thing I didn't bring Gendry." 

 

"Who's Gendry?" Sandor looked at her in the backseat and Arya glanced at him once before looking at Sansa through the review mirror. 

 

"You didn't tell him?" 

 

"No," Sansa gave her an affronted look, "you said not to tell anymore." 

 

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean you couldn't tell your stupid boyfriend," Arya's words were tart but she looked a little pleased. 

 

"Who's Gendry?" Sandor demanded again as Sansa pulled away from the house and Arya chuckled. 

 

"Settle in lover boy, I have a story for you." 

 

* * *

 

 

Heggies Pizza - pizza made in milaca, which is close to me! very delicious. 

Boundary Waters - google it. just google it. pictures don't do it justice.

Three Bears - a waterpark! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the best gifts are reviews and it would be the best thing ever to have an inbox full of them! 
> 
> like i said this is one of my fav chapters and i hope you all enjoyed it. 
> 
> thank you, bless you!


	21. Post It Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter in 2018!!! this year has been wild, rocky, joyful, scary, frustrating, and most of all, blessed. I want to say thank you all for everything, the kudos, reviews, reblogs, etc. Y'all have made this year one to remember and for that - thank you!!!

"And you had sex with him? On the counter?" Jeyne was looking at her, aghast. 

 

"I didn't mean to," laughed Sansa, as she sorted through her dirty clothes, tossing them towards her hamper. 

 

"Oh, which part?" Jeyne mocked. 

 

"Alright, enough," Sansa threw a clean shirt at Jenye who caught it with a snort. 

 

"Scandalous. I can't believe you. Get with a guy who's a little older and all the sudden you're sexing on counters and he could be convicted of assault," Jeyne shook her head. 

 

The pair of them were in Sansa's room, unpacking after the break. Margaery wasn't back yet so Jeyne was taking advantage of the time to needle Sansa about everything that had happened with Sandor while at Winterfell. 

 

"How are things with Beric?" Sansa asked carefully, carrying her makeup products to the bathroom. 

 

"I don't know," Jeyne said moodily, "he's so hard to read. One second things are normal, then the next he's going cliff diving in Belize." 

 

"Well do you want adventure or normalcy?" Sansa called over her shoulder as she put back her foundation and mascera. 

 

"Both?" Jeyne sounded confused. 

 

"Is that possible to have with him?" Sansa pointed out, digging through her bag for her laptop charger and planner. 

 

"I don't know," Jeyne folded her arms gloomily, "I wish it was easy like you and Sandor." 

 

"After the last hour and a half of telling you all the drama that happened this weekend, you came to the conclusion that Sandor and I have it easy?" Sansa looked at her in disbelief. 

 

"When are you going to tell the team?" Jeyne changed the subject sneakily and Sansa glared at her. 

 

"Eventually." 

 

"Bitches, I'm home!" Margaery's yell echoed throughout the apartment. 

 

"You got Catelyn out of the way, can we be any worse?" hissed Jeyne as they left Sansa's room to greet her. 

 

* * *

 

 

**Little odd not waking up next to you today**

 

_Is that an invite to sleep over more often?_

 

**Like I’d ever tell you no**

 

_Well you just let me know when a free moment lines up for us_

 

_Attachment: 1 image_

 

**Christ little bird**

 

_It’s finals season I can’t help it!!!_

 

Their date night ended up being over a week later. All they could manage on a Wednesday night between classes, studying, practices, conditioning, and various commitments was a home cooked meal and the promise that they could cuddle and kiss only for a bit; they each had enough work to do that it was impossible to not. Sansa had promised him enchiladas and rice, so she bought the ingredients at Aldi’s before she went over to his place.

 

“Hi love,” he greeted her with a kiss and a freshly blended margarita. Sansa didn’t know which she was more pleased at. She set the ingredients on the counter for her enchiladas before giving him a proper kiss.

 

“How’s the team?” she asked him. She didn’t tell him that she’d heard from a couple hockey boys that there was gossip in the locker room that Sandor was seeing a girl; apparently they’d glimpsed his lock screen that had a female on it as well as the fact that he’d been very evasive about his Thanksgiving break.

 

“Shit, as always,” he remarked back, already laying out the items needed for homemade guac. “Come back from break twenty pounds heavier and 80% slower.”

 

“Oh, now you just sound like Mel,” Sansa retorted, “she screamed at us today. Ladies, can you leap? Does anyone here remember how to turn properly? Am I the only one who isn’t held down by needless turkey and stuffing weight? She honestly reduced most of the freshmen girls to tears. Some sophomores too.”

 

“Not you though?” questioned Sandor and she snorted.

 

“Mel doesn’t scare me. Besides, the fastest way to get over the Thanksgiving hump is to keep pushing yourself. Then you throw up and it’s fine again!”

 

“Unhealthy,” concern made Sandor’s grey eyes bright so Sansa patted his cheek as she separated tortilla shells.

 

“That’s the ugly side of dance you never see.”

 

“I’ll have a word with her,” Sandor offered, or rather threatened and Sansa laughed outright.

 

“And say what? Oh, Mel, I’m dating Sansa Stark and I want you to stop being so hard on her even though she is a grown woman capable of knowing her own limits and body?”

 

“Fine,” he sulked, slicing an avocado in half, “but if you keep getting sick….”

 

“Bless you for the compassion,” Sansa kissed him, “but I know what I can handle. Besides, we’re past all that now. Today after we ran the pom routine we got a ‘passable’ which is the nicest thing she’s said to us the whole season.”

 

“And I thought I was hard on my guys,” Sandor muttered.

 

“Never underestimate catty dance team coaches,” Sansa laughed. For a few minutes, they prepared the meal in silence. Sansa liked that the two of them worked well as a pair; Sandor usually took up the position of cutting since he worried Sansa would slice a finger off so she did assembly and seasoning. She was just enjoying the tranquility of a quiet apartment when Sandor broke it with a hesitant question.

 

“So how does this whole Nationals thing work?”

 

“What do you mean?” responded Sansa pleasantly.

 

“Where is it, when is it, how do you do it, you know,” he grumbled and Sansa slid the enchiladas into the oven and straightened up.

 

“It’s at Walt Disney World in Florida every year,” she told him and he made a face.

 

“Florida.”

 

“Yes, well, in January it’s actually pretty nice,” Sansa rolled her eyes at him, “but this year it’s the first two days of February.”

 

“Who goes?” Sandor was fishing, she could tell but Sansa respected his hesitation enough to pretend like she didn’t.

 

“Family, some friends,” she said offhandedly, smashing an avocado. “My parents of course, and they’ll pull Bran and Rickon from school for it. Robb and Talisa won’t this year since the baby will be like a month old.”

 

“Arya?” he asked and Sansa actually had to pause, thinking it over.

 

“I think so,” she said slowly, “she’s came every year but I guess we’ll have to see how classes are going.”

 

“Mhmm,” Sandor made a noncommittal noise and went back to chopping lettuce. Sansa shook her head at him, smiling.

 

She told herself that she wouldn’t keep bringing up Nationals unless he did too, but Sandor seemed to be over it now. They snacked on the chips and guac before their enchiladas were ready, then ate and talked about the current standings of Big Ten hockey teams. It wasn’t until after they’d cleaned up and Sandor was making her a second, sadly virgin margarita that the subject was broached again.

 

“—And that’s why she’s always such a handful, because half the time we’re in Florida I’m worried she’s going to pass out,” Sansa finished detailing her worries over Jeyne’s eating habits.

 

“I wish I could get my guys to stop eating everything in sight,” he responded, bringing her drink back over to where she’d started spreading her books and notes over his coffee table. “Does anyone else see it as a problem?”

 

“Well yeah, but the mentality is sort of what young dancer doesn’t have eating problems? Unless it’s serious, everyone assumes that you’ve got it under control.”

 

“Like you knowing your limits even when you’re throwing up at practice?” Sandor gave her a stern look and Sansa made a face.

 

“I only throw up at dance a couple times a year, if that. Besides, it’s just because Mel goes nuts before Nationals.”

 

“Someone needs to go with and make sure she doesn’t tear you to pieces,” he muttered darkly and Sansa sipped her margarita, pointedly looking at him.

 

“A plane ticket isn’t that expensive, you know,” she told him flatly, when he made a big fuss about trying to find the right binder of scouting reports.

 

“What?” he looked up innocently.

 

“A plane ticket to Florida, like 400 bucks, give or take,” she held up one finger, “hotel room for a couple nights, let’s say 800 bucks,” she held up a second finger, “and admission to watch me dance, 300 hundred bucks,” she held up a third finger. “But the look on my team’s faces when you roll up wearing a shirt with my name on it? Oh, that’s priceless.”

 

“So you just expect me to drop over a grand to watch you dance?” Sandor crossed his arms and sat back appraisingly.

 

“No,” Sansa responded with a sassy look of her own, “you’ll come to watch me win.”

 

“Alright,” he caved then like she thought he would, “should I ask your mother to set up my travel arrangements?”

 

“I’m sure she’ll refer you to her guy,” Sansa said flippantly but inside her stomach was turning over and over again. She could hardly keep a giddy smile off her face. The idea that Sandor wanted to come to Nationals to watch her perform was exciting enough, but her mind kept spinning off into the possibilities. Would he take a picture with her in front of the castle? Would they get to lounge by the pool? Would he sweep her off her feet when they won and kiss her? Would the cameras catch the moment? Would they get —

 

“So will you tell your team about us then?” Sandor broke off her train of daydreaming with a somewhat rough question. She glanced at him but he seemed to be purposely avoiding looking at her. He kept scanning his binders though she could have told him the one he needed was the third from the left.

 

“Will you tell yours?” she asked back and then he looked to her.

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

“I….” Sansa trailed off, unsure. She didn’t truly know who she wanted knowing about them yet. It was nice that her family knew so that she didn’t have to keep secrets. And Sandor was an angel to her brothers. Rickon had already added him to the sibling group chat and she knew that Arya had texted him once or twice to ask him for advice on how to ease Gendry into their family if the time came.

 

But her teammates and his players? Combined, they made up only a small percentage of the athletes at the U, but news traveled fast here. Especially if it had anything to do regarding a coach and a student, and a Stark at that. Sansa could name the biggest gossips on each team; she lived with one. The second it got out that they were together, it would spread like wildfire over campus.

 

She didn’t want to hide him nor was she ashamed. But there was an added level that came with a relationship at this stage. The pressure to define it. Post it on social media. Share moments that made everything seem like bliss. Put smiling, happy faces on. Nothing was private, not now, not here. Sansa liked that she kept him to herself and that there was no pressure. It made things easier.

 

“Forget I mentioned it,” he muttered when she remained frozen, words failing her.

 

“No Sandor, it’s not what you think,” she said hastily, getting up and crossing the short distance to where he was sitting.

 

“And what’s that?” he was annoyed, she could tell. He had the grumpy scrunch between his eyes and he kept folding his arms in front of himself.

 

“You think that I’m embarrassed or whatever. That’s not true at all,” she clasped his hands eagerly and brought them to her chest. “I just like having stuff be between me and you. And if they all know, then I have to defend this and prove to them all that it’s a good idea and that you’re a nice guy—”

 

“And I’m not?”

 

“Oh shut up, you are and you know it. It’s just that after Joffrey, the girls are going to be protective. And I love them for that! But I just got done explaining to my family that you’re the best thing to happen to me, and I’m going to have to do it all over again.”

 

“I am?” that appeased him some and Sansa nodded, snuggling into his chest.

 

“Yes you big oaf.”

 

“Well you’re pretty damn great yourself,” Sandor kissed her hair and Sansa smiled, letting herself relax for a minute and forget that she was meant to be studying now.

 

“Do you want to tell your team about us?” she asked him finally, after listening to his heart beat slow back into a normal pace.

 

“Fuck no,” he chuckled, “and listen all practice about being a pervy old man or a sugar daddy? No. Not going to give them that fuel.”

 

“Hockey players,” Sansa said fondly and then after a few more moments, sighed and pulled away.

 

“Do your homework,” he ordered and she stuck her tongue out at him, sliding back onto the floor and pulling the coffee table to her.

 

“Yes, daddy.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Sandor flicked her ear and Sansa laughed, picking up her notes.

 

“You know what I could really go for?” Sansa spoke after some time of silence, previously only broken by the sound of their pens as they each jotted down notes of some sort.

 

“What?” Sandor replied distractedly. He was staring at a profile of a player, chewing on the end of his pen with a furrowed brow.

 

“Root beer floats,” Sansa stood and rolled her neck, causing the joints to pop loudly. Sandor winched.

 

“Now? After two sugary margaritas?”

 

“Don’t be like my mother,” Sansa pointed at him and he rolled his eyes. “No, when we were kids and had to study, we’d make root beer floats. It’s engrained in me now; if I’m studying I deserve a root beer float.”

 

“Alright, stuff’s in the fridge,” Sandor went back to his notes and Sansa went to the kitchen, pulling open the freezer to retrieve the vanilla bean ice cream she’d bought before Thanksgiving to stash away here. Sandor had a few cans of root beer in the fridge door so Sansa constructed two small floats and stuck a straw in each before bringing Sandor his.

 

“There,” she said proudly, setting it down beside him. Sandor regarded it with surprise.

 

“You didn’t have to make me one,” he told her as she sat down, sipping on her own.

 

“Well I thought if I had one you’d want one too.”

 

“You Starks and your quirks,” he shook his head and Sansa tossed him a look over her shoulder.

 

“Hey now, what does that mean?” she narrowed her eyes.

 

“Root beer floats and sports movies after Thanksgiving and Christmas morning,” Sandor listed off, “I’m sure there’s a hundred other traditions you all have and stick to.”

 

“We had to give up gingerbread houses and carving pumpkins now that we’re all so busy with school,” Sansa pouted before brightening, “but that reminds me, are you coming with me to Christmas?”

 

“Am I?” Sandor suddenly turned wary.

 

“Well, you’re invited of course,” Sansa fished for a bit of ice cream with her straw.

 

“Maybe Thanksgiving traumatized me so bad I’ll never go again,” he teased and Sansa stared at him balefully until he took a drink of his float.

 

“You’re stronger than that. Besides, everyone adores you, Robb and Talisa will have had the baby by then, and it’s only like two days really. What else do you have?” she meant her last remark as a joke, poking fun at the fact that hockey consumed all of his time, but the second it left her lips she could tell it was going to be misconstrued.

 

Sandor tensed, his fingers tightening on the glass before he set it down, just a bit too hard. Root beer splattered over the top and onto the glass top of the table, leaving little brown dots. The bit of her mother that was instilled in Sansa’s brain screamed that she needed to wipe it up before it got sticky, but Sansa pushed that aside and reached for Sandor instead.

 

“No,” he said instantly, when her hands went for his and she backed off right away, bringing them back down to her own lap. Heart aching, she watched as he went back to the binder, clearly distressed. She didn’t want to push him but he had to know it was a mistake, that she’d meant no harm by it.

 

“I put my foot in my mouth,” she apologized finally, after it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak first, “and I’m sorry. I meant that I want you there.”

 

“I know how you meant it,” he grunted after a tense pause and Sansa exhaled, only slightly.

 

“I would like you there but you don’t have to,” she set a hand on his knee which seemed to be alright.

 

“Have you ever thought about not going?” he questioned suddenly, “about what if you stayed here and just you and I opened gifts Christmas morning.”

 

“I…. Had not,” she stammered, taken aback. “I didn’t know things were like that with us.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“That serious,” she said lamely and once again regretted her choice of words. “I mean, I know we’re serious. That’s why I brought you to meet my family and stuff. I wouldn’t date you if we weren’t serious. I just mean—” she trailed off, unable to explain what she did mean. That seemed like something a married couple would do.

 

“Calm down,” he patted her hand and she relaxed slightly. “I just meant that you don’t always have to do things with your family.”

 

“You still say that after meeting my family?” Sansa raised an eyebrow.

 

“You asked me if I wanted to go,” Sandor countered, “but do you?”

 

“It’s Christmas,” she said, exasperated, “you spend it with family! That’s not a choice, that’s a well regarded fact. It doesn’t matter if I want to go or not because come morning, I’m going to be sitting on the couch between Mom and Bran with my stocking and gifts, watching Arya and Rickon fight over who found the pickle and gets the gift.”

 

“The what?” Sandor was momentarily sidetracked but Sansa ignored him.

 

“You can come or not. I want you there and I’m pretty sure all my siblings would love it too. You’d get to meet Jon, you’d get to open gifts with us, the whole nine yards. But I understand that what I said before could’ve been mistaken as me commenting on your lack of family and you have to know that wasn’t what I intended. Because you do have a family. It’s with us.”

 

Sansa ended her declaration with a ringing voice, so loud that it wasn’t until silence fell afterwards that she realized Sandor was sitting a foot away from and she didn’t have to be so noisy. For his part, Sandor was just watching her, head slightly cocked to one side.

 

“So you saying that we’re family isn’t more serious than me suggesting we do Christmas alone?” he pointed out and Sansa struggled to come up with a good argument back.

 

“Waking up with just us on Christmas morning is like, we’re married,” she explained carefully, “and we’d do the stockings for each other and a tree and gifts. And since I don’t think you have a tree, or stockings, I’m not sure how we’d make it work.”

 

“I could get a tree,” Sandor insisted.

 

“And ornaments? Lights? Decorations?” Sansa gestured to the apartment around her. The only personal items visible besides their mess of homework was the small framed graphic art he’d hung on one wall; a print Sansa had gotten him with different hockey terms shaped like the state of Minnesota.

 

“I’d hire your mother to do it,” he taunted and Sansa snorted.

 

“She’d give you the name of a guy. When are you going to understand that my mom has everyone else do her shit?”

 

“Alright, so then I go to Christmas with, and I go to Nationals,” he listed off, “that’s a lot of stuff for you, little bird.”

 

“I go to your games!” Sansa defended herself, “and if you make Frozen Four I’m coming to that of course. What else do you want?”

 

“Some of the guys get together for a holiday party,” he countered and Sansa’s whole stomach dropped out from under her.

 

“And you want me to come?” she squeaked, “and when you say guys, you mean, like, hockey player guys, don’t you?”

 

“Hockey community,” Sandor corrected, “but players, the other coaches, more of the same. You come with me to that, I’ll go with you Winterfell.”

 

“I would’ve gone with you regardless you weirdo,” Sansa laughed, “you don’t need to bargain with me. That sounds fun.”

 

“Alright,” Sandor looked pleased.

 

“But,” Sansa held up a finger, “I’d like to request just one other thing.”

 

“What?” he asked warily.

 

“Can we go skating?” she pleaded and for a second he only stared at her before chuckling.

 

“Yeah, little bird, we can go skating.”

 

“No, I mean like a skating date,” she corrected, “with hot chocolate and lights and—”

 

“You’re not dragging me to the Winter Carnival,” Sandor cut her off firmly and Sansa laughed.

 

“No, silly. That’s not till January. I’m talking WinterSkate. Downtown St. Paul.”

 

“Christ, when are we going to fit that in?” Sandor grumbled but Sansa saw he was smiling, ever so slightly.

 

“We can find a date,” she said cheerfully, pulling out her planner from under the stacks of books. Sandor groaned but let her suggest dates and times until they could pencil it in midway through the month. Sandor told her the date and time of the holiday party and Sansa gnawed on her lip for a moment; it was going to be tight squeeze with finals and dance, but she wanted to make it work.

 

“Alright, now study,” Sandor commanded, pointing to her work and Sansa grabbed her flashcards, handing them to him with a sly smile.

 

“But I need your help. Quiz me.”

 

“The things I do,” he complained but good-naturedly, “but if these are in Spanish, I’m useless.”

 

Quizzing turned Sansa sitting on his lap for better studying, which then turned to kisses for right answers, which led to the flashcards being discarded entirely. The chiming tone on Sansa’s phone that went off to let her know that she needed to be in bed for a full nights sleep was the thing to separate the two of them; as it was Sansa protested that she should stay over instead of trying to get back home. Sandor gently reminded her of how much stuff she had to do and so it was with rather ill grace that she left his apartment for home.

 

“Christ you’re back late,” Margaery remarked when Sansa finally stumbled in the door, yawning.

 

“Yeah, studying,” Sansa said by way of explanation, hanging up her coat and kicking her Uggs to the side.

 

“Finals aren’t for like two weeks,” Margaery brushed off and Sansa shook her head.

 

“Well some of us get a jump start on things,” she stated, “and I have enough group projects between now and then that I might as well get the jump on things now before it all goes to hell.”

 

“So are you going to tell me who was in that picture Robb posted?” Margaery followed her to her bedroom and Sansa groaned.

 

“And here I’d hoped you guys had forgotten.”

 

“Please, it’s just that with all that drama about Myranda—“ the fact that their teammate had split from her longtime boyfriend had been the gossip of the moment coming back from Thanksgiving “—we haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet.”

 

“I’m going to bed,” Sansa declared, even as Margaery disregarded her and crawled into her bed.

 

“Obviously it was one of Robb’s friends, since you were at Winterfell. Who all lives up there anyways? Remind me. I know I should pay attention when you guys talk about it, I just can’t,” Margaery snuggled into Sansa’s blankets as Sansa herself tiredly laid out her workout clothes and outfit for the morning.

 

“Margy, look, I’m going to be 100% honest with you,” Sansa stated, “I brought Sandor Clegane home with me for Thanksgiving. We spent it with my family. I am in love with him. In fact, I think he’s in love with me too. I think I want to spend a really long time with him.”

 

“Fuck, you must be sleepy,” Margaery slid out of bed to give her a sympathetic hug, “get some rest babes. And you’ve got to let that whole Clegane thing die; it was funny at first but now you’re just wearing it out.”

 

“He has a really big dick,” Sansa told her roommate’s retreating back; Margaery gave her a pitying look that clearly convoyed she thought Sansa was delusional and shut her door. Sansa resisted the urge to laugh like a manic and instead crawled into bed, knowing how badly she’d regret her late night tomorrow morning. Before she could fall asleep, she pulled out her phone and composed three messages.

 

To Sandor,

 

_Home safe. In bed. Thank you for everything._

 

To her mother,

 

_Sandor is coming for Christmas. Should I do a stocking and everything for him? Is that alright?_

 

And to her siblings,

 

_Sandor is coming to Christmas and UDA Nationals. Sooooooo who wants to come with me to Frozen Four???_

 

Then she was asleep before her phone screen had even gone dark.

 

* * *

 

Big Ten - the conference the U of M is in

The Pickle - it's a glass pickle ornament hidden in the tree - if you find it, you get money. does anyone else do this? 

Frozen Four - semi finals for hockey nationals (ala final four for basketball, but frozen for the ice, get it?)

WinterSkate - outdoor rink in the cities

Winter Carnival - a huge celebration in the cities - ice castles and sculptures, food, pageantry, etc. in the dead of winter and cold as fuck but very pretty!  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also yes, we minnesotans are responsible for every honey-do list that's ever been stuck to a fridge - you're welcome or i'm sorry, depending on your outlook on them. 
> 
> a slower chapter, but I thought y'all might appreciate it with the chaos of the last couple! 
> 
> again, blessings to all of you in the new year. thank you for everything!!!


	22. Mayo Clinic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the first few days of the new year has blessed you all with so much loveliness and happiness that your hearts can't stand it. may you always be happy and blessed! 
> 
> also my mom works for mayo clinic and i just gotta shout her out real quick cause nurses are the real ones

"Why did I pick this sport?" Alayaya had a contemplative look on her face. "I mean, there are like fifty other sports I could have done. But it had to be this one." 

 

"It's because you're secretly a sadist, you like the pain," Roslin advised and Alayaya glanced at her. 

 

"You're in the same position as me bitch." 

 

"I know, but I chose to live this life," Roslin said wisely and Sansa twisted her head to look at the two of them. 

 

They were facing each other, Roslin's heel on Alayaya's shoulder and vice versa, so that their legs formed a 210 degree angle. Sansa was in the same position with Mya and across the gym each dancer was paired off. Next to them were Shireen and Myrcella, both of whom were pale. 

 

"I don't demand perfection of you all because it's fun," Mel barked from where she was wandering the aisles, "I demand it because it is expected! You are not going to be champions unless each and every day you exceed what you did yesterday!" 

 

"See, I was four when I knew this would be it for me," Roslin was still talking, "and that's why it's only ever going to be this." 

 

"We're all fucking morons for choosing this," Mya said lowly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Mel stalked past, looking for anyone who wasn't forcing themselves lower in the stretch. 

 

"Personally, I blame my mother," Myrcella whispered and Mel shouted, 

 

"Alright, switch!" 

 

"Fuck the left side," Alayaya grumbled as she slid her heel off Roslin's shoulder and the other dancer did the same. 

 

"Yesterday I ate a whole pint of Halo Top, think she'd be proud if I exceeded that?" Mya joked as she grabbed Sansa's left ankle and hoisted it up onto her shoulder. Sansa grimaced as she settled into the stretch. 

 

"Unlikely." 

 

"How much longer do you think we have?" Shireen questioned and Sansa glanced up at the clock on the wall. They were nearing when the end of practice should be coming, but Sansa knew better. They'd nearly dropped Roslin during one of the lifts, Shae fell out of a set of turns, and Myrcella, nervous after being yelled at for her jumps, dropped a pom-pom during a run through. Mel was livid. 

 

"Not anytime soon," Sansa shifted Mya's heel slightly so it wasn't digging into her collarbone. 

 

"Chances are we're running both dances again after this," said Roslin gloomily and Shireen blanched. 

 

"Again?" 

 

"Probably," Sansa huffed, flinching as the muscles in her hamstrings screamed in protest. 

 

"What?" Alayaya looked alarmed. 

 

"Yeah, that's her version of punishment," Roslin explained, "she'll make us run it until it's perfect."

 

"But it's never perfect," Myrcella groaned and Roslin nodded, a look of grim acceptance on her face. 

 

"Exactly." 

 

"I'm gonna fail my finals," Alayaya said with a resigned sigh. 

 

"But isn't it worth it for the chance to wear the storied Gopher uniform?" Mya mocked, grunting when she shifted. 

 

"Honestly, no," Sansa muttered. 

 

"Hold it," Mel shouted and someone further down the line tried to muffle a groan. 

 

Sansa was beyond caring. She had a date with Sandor that was suppose to start in less than 45 minutes but with each stretch and conditioning exercise that Mel imposed upon them it looked more likely that she was going to have to text him to cancel. And she really didn't want to cancel. 

 

They were going to go ice skating together, at the rink in downtown St. Paul. Sansa had toyed with the idea of taking a cute, couple type shot and posting it to her social media, but at this point she was still not sure if she or Sandor were ready for that. Judging from the black mood that Mel was in, it was quickly seeming like all her worry had been moot. She hoped that at least they would get a break sometime soon so she could at least text Sandor and let him know what had happened.

 

“Shouldn’t she be more careful? Won’t Margaery like sue her?” Roslin wondered and Sansa snorted.

 

“No, we all sign waivers handing over all autonomy for our bodies with her.”

 

“Great,” Mya grunted and Mel suddenly clapped her hands.

 

“Alright, done. I want everyone up, we’re running jazz again. Shireen and Myrcella are our alternates. Now, ladies!”

 

“You weren’t kidding,” Alayaya groaned as they all stood, flinching and shaking out legs.

 

“Nope,” Roslin miserably went to her spot in the opening formation.

 

“Think we can stage a coup and end practice?” Dany asked Sansa under her breath as the two of them went to stand back to back in their spots.

 

“If we all leave at once, no one can be held responsible,” Sansa suggested and Dany squeezed her hand.

 

The opening strains of music were seared into Sansa’s brain by now. She was beginning to loathe the song but she knew that was typical; she listened to it more than a dozen times a day and it was now intertwined with intense physical exertion, but she still wished that she could shut it all off.

 

At this point in the season, less than two months away from Nationals, Sansa knew the routine backwards and forwards. She could do it in her sleep. She knew every step, every kick, every turn, leap, jump, lift, roll, extension. Her exhausted body wasn’t so much as dancing as it was just using the muscle memory that allowed her to perform for Mel without having to think.

 

Pointed toes. Dramatic head throw. Three a la seconde turns into an arabesque. Watch out of the corner of her eye to see if Ros and Myranda lifted Roslin high. A triple, land in middle splits. Slid forward, avoid being kicked in the face by Missy. In formation behind Ygritte. Hold Gilly steady for her extension. Move to next formation, the longest turning sequence, then her leap. Almost to the end, just keep moving.

 

Nothing more than two minutes, but it seemed to Sansa that it stretched a lifetime.

 

When they finished, Sansa in a dramatic pose lying at Dany’s feet, there was utter silence except for the light wheezing of the girls struggling to catch their breath. Sansa chanced a side eye look to Mel, who’s lips were pursed.

 

“Alright,” she finally relented, “that didn’t look like a bunch of four year olds were performing it. Get your poms, and so help me, if one of you drops them I will superglue them to your fingers!”

 

“Think this means there’s an end in sight?” Arianne picked up her pom-poms and tossed Sansa her own.

 

“I had a study group ten minutes ago,” Lyanna complained, “so none of this even matters to me anymore.”

 

“One more time,” Sansa encouraged, “and then we’re done.”

 

“Oh, pretty, optimistic, idiotic Sansa,” chuckled Jeyne, “she’s never going to be done with us. She owns us.”

 

“For 8 more weeks, then I have freedom,” Arianne muttered.

 

“Then no more us,” Irri pointed out and Arianne raised on eyebrow as she got into formation, arms jutting straight out in front of her.

 

“At this point, it’s worth it.”

 

Pom was far and away more rigorous than jazz, with the rapid turning series, the crisp jumps, and tight arm movements. But Sansa found pom simpler, since the music made the 8 counts so clear. She could snap and lock in time with the other girls, even if her lungs felt like they were on fire from the inside out.

 

The last 30 seconds of pom were several turns right in a row, straight into a Russian, then sliding into the splits. Sansa’s chest was heaving, but around her everyone was in position, there were no pom-poms on the ground, and Mel wasn’t screaming at them, so there was hope.

 

“Alright,” Mel waved her hands, “the turns were sloppy, there were no height on those jumps, and every single one of you needs to look up the dictionary definition of uniformity. But for now, it’s the best you’ve given me all day. Go.”

 

Without a second of hesitation, they all scrambled.

 

"Call Sandor," Sansa commanded her Jeep the second she turned it on. After a moment, the bluetooth synced and began ringing through her speakers. 

 

"Hi little bird," there was a tone of surprise in Sandor's voice. 

 

"Hi babe," she said tiredly, backing out of the parking lot and trying to avoid hitting a pile of snow. 

 

"Are you on your way?" he asked and Sansa gave a hollow laugh. 

 

"No, I'm just leaving practice. Mel was in a mood." 

 

"Fuck," he made a noise of sympathy and Sansa hummed in agreement, "did you want to cancel?" 

 

"Fuck no, I haven't seen you in like a week. We're going skating. I'm getting hot chocolate. We are going to enjoy this time!" 

 

"Well alright then," he chuckled. 

 

"I'll go home, shower, grab my stuff, and be there in a bit. Wear something cute!" she ordered. 

 

"Yes ma'am," Sandor disconnected with a laugh. 

 

Sansa blew through a shower, trying to blow dry her hair and do makeup at the same time. She knew that Jeyne and Margaery would be back soon enough, but she figured she could sneak out when Margaery was in the shower. After slamming the front door, Jeyne appeared in the doorway. 

 

"Date?" she asked knowingly. 

 

"Ice skating," explained Sansa, cussing when her swipe of mascara ended up on her eyebrow. "Oh, fuck this!" 

 

"Let me do the hair," Jeyne offered, taking the blow dryer so that Sansa could do her makeup. 

 

"Don't want it to freeze," Sansa muttered and Jeyne laughed, taking a section and separating it out. 

 

"Do your makeup woman, I've got this." 

 

"You're a lifesaver," Sansa thanked her and Jeyne smiled. 

 

"Going to take any pictures tonight?" she asked, a few moments later and Sansa gave her wry look. 

 

"Subtle." 

 

"Gonna post a blurry one on the gram, caption it 'low quality pic with a high quality guy'?" Jeyne continued to prod. 

 

"Please, suggest more basic captions for me."

 

"He's the best present there is, merry Christmas to you and yours from me and mines, under the mistletoe, have yourself a merry little Christmas, he really jingles my bells," Jeyne rattled off rapidly and Sansa snorted. 

 

"Are you just reading Marg's old captions?" 

 

"Dany's actually," Jeyne said breezily and they both broke down in giggles.

 

"Okay, this is as good as it's gonna get," Sansa declared, when her hair was mostly dry and her makeup mostly done.  

 

"Clothes?" Jeyne asked and Sansa kissed her on the cheek as she darted past. 

 

"Can you get my coat and cute beanie ready? Oh, and my mittens. The red ones!" 

  

"Go, go, go," Jeyne yelled as Sansa pulled on her warmest fleece leggings, a cute oversized sweater, and fuzzy socks. She slid through the living room to where Jeyne was waiting with her coat.

 

"Thank you," Sansa said breathlessly, yanking the coat on and jamming her hands into the mittens.

 

"Have fun you cute rascals," Jeyne patted Sansa's butt as she sailed out the door.

 

"I love you!"

 

Sansa managed to get to Sandor's in record time and raced to the elevator. A young couple held the doors for her and she gave them breathless thanks, trying to arrange herself in the mirror while they ascended. She was just panicking on if she'd put on enough deodorant when she pushed Sandor's door open.

 

"Little bird?" he called, clearly in the bedroom.

 

"Yeah!" she popped her head around the corner and smiled at him. He was sitting on his bed, pulling up his socks.

 

"You have anything to eat yet?" he asked her, eyebrows furrowed. "I thought I had way more time before you would be here."

 

"I raced over," Sansa explained, living his room and raising her voice so he could still hear, "but I can just have a snack!"

 

"You worry me!"

 

"Oh, it's fine, don't be melodramatic," she chastised as she pulled the hummus out of the fridge and went to get the veggie chips she'd stashed in the pantry.

 

"I'll be as dramatic as I want," he grumbled, leaving his room and going to the closet beside the door. He pulled out a coat and then to Sansa's delight, his beanie.

 

"I'm not even that hungry, I had a big lunch," she reassured him and he sighed, shaking his head.

 

"If you say so, Stark," he buttoned up his coat and pulled the beanie on.

 

"Don't you just look so cute," Sansa cooed and he rolled his eyes.

 

"Yeah, you too. We going?"

 

"Sure," she snapped the hummus lid shut and put it back in the fridge. She extended her hand for Sandor and he took it, kissing her knuckles.

 

"Hard practice then today?" he asked knowingly and Sansa made a face.

 

"That's just Mel. We don't do it right, we run it again. We don't do it to her standards, we do it again. We do it again and again and again and again and--"

 

"Got it," Sandor cut her off, punching the button for the elevator. Sansa grinned and leaned against him. "Sure you're not too tired for this?"

 

"Nope," she promised, squeezing his hand.

 

Their trip downtown was uneventful, as was the walk to the rink. Sansa grinned at the sound of small children shrieking with glee; Christmas music was playing and the general atmosphere was that of festivity. Sandor looked thoroughly uncomfortable but laced his skates up regardless and waiting as Sansa pulled off her boots and went to lace up her skates.

 

"You know, I could get us into a private rink anytime you'd like," Sandor offered, looking like he regretted his choice deeply.

 

"Not outdoors," she reminded him tartly and Sandor watched critically as a young boy wiped out and began screaming for his mother.

 

"My place has a warm bed, Netflix, and hot chocolate," he tried to bargain and Sansa stood, reaching her hands out with her mittens, grinning.

 

“C’mon,” she implored and Sandor groaned but willingly went with her to the rink. They stepped onto the ice and she saw him winching at the poor quality of it.

 

“Bed, Netflix, hot chocolate,” Sandor repeated and Sansa threw her head back, laughing. “We could grab Baileys.”

 

“This is fun,” insisted Sansa, stopping abruptly to avoid a collision with a young girl who was trying to catch up with friends.

 

“That’s what we’re calling it,” he deadpanned and Sansa snorted.

 

They skated for a little bit, watching and commenting on the other skaters with slight glee. There was other couples on dates, parents with kids either delighted or annoyed, and groups of young adolescents, flirting and giggling amongst themselves. Sansa waited until they were near a mom standing aside and watching her kids before skating away from Sandor.

 

“Hi,” she approached her with a smile, “would you mind taking a picture of my boyfriend and I?”

 

“Of course,” the mother looked delighted, taking Sansa’s outstretched iPhone.

 

“Really?” Sandor skated up looking amused and Sansa smirked, wrapping her arm around his waist.

 

“Smile pretty,” she ordered and Sandor coughed loudly. “Do it!”

 

“Oh, alright,” he grumbled and Sansa glanced up at him to check. He was smiling, but when he felt her gaze on him, glanced down at her.

 

“Hey,” she said softly, smiling and he grinned back at her, a real smile this time. They both looked back at the camera and after a few moments, the mom smiled and lowered the phone.

 

“You guys are so cute,” she remarked as she handed the phone back and Sansa beamed.

 

“Thank you!” she skated back to Sandor, scrolling through the photos and inspecting them.

 

“First time I’ve ever been called cute,” Sandor grumbled but he had a little smile on his face.

 

“Well look how cute these are,” Sansa eagerly showed him the photos. She’d taken several, including some of them looking straight at the camera and then a few of them looking at each other, smiling widely.

 

“Cute,” Sandor echoed and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

“Oh they’re re-icing, we have get off,” Sansa tugged Sandor towards the benches, still inspecting photos on her phone. Sandor went without protest. 

 

They sat down and Sansa engrossed herself in the photos. There were so many cute ones, she wasn’t sure where to start. She kept scrolling back and forth until she found her favorite; the one where she was looking back at the camera with a smile but Sandor was still looking at her. His face was soft, his burn less prominent in the hazy lights of the rink.

 

“Any good ones?” Sandor sounded offhanded, but Sansa heard the tone of curiosity within his voice.

 

“What do you think of this one?” she handed him to phone and he looked it over for a long minute.

 

“It’s alright,” he said finally, handing it back, “are you going to post it?”

 

“I thought about it,” Sansa said carefully and he made a small noise, neither of protest or approval.

 

“Just don’t ask me about filters,” he muttered and she smiled faintly, flipping through them until she found one that she liked.

 

“Oh, they’re done,” Sansa remarked, locking her phone and slipping it into her pocket, “let’s go.”

 

“Oh, hurray,” Sandor stood, shaking out his coat and tugging his beanie back on.

 

They had only been skating for a few minutes again when Sansa decided it was time for hot chocolate; that and her skates were pinching her feet. She wasn’t use to skating on such rough, artificial ice, nor keeping up with Sandor and avoiding other skaters who weren’t as nimble as her.

 

“I just want one with extra whip cream,” Sansa remarked, as they kicked off their skates for the short walk to the hot chocolate stand.

 

“Is there any time you don’t want extra sweets?” Sandor chuckled and Sansa gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder.

 

“I love sweet things, that’s why I got you.”

 

“Oh, that’s why,” Sandor’s agreeable was tempered with heavy sarcasm and Sansa stuck her tongue out at him as they joined the waiting line. It was far shorter than it had been during the resurfacing period, but they were still queued behind several kids and young couples. Sansa pressed herself to Sandor’s side as she pulled her phone back out to keep editing the photo.

 

Her stomach immediately plummeted. Her screen now illuminated the 13 missed calls and 57 text messages that she hadn’t felt with her phone in her puffy coat pocket. Every nerve in her body snapped as she realized all the calls were coming from her mother, Robb, and Arya. The text messages seemed the be primarily in the group chat as well and Sansa could only think that someone had to be dead.

 

Sandor was talking to her, she could vaguely hear him over the buzzing in her ears as panic bubbled up into her throat and made her unable to speak. She could only smack Sandor’s arm, mutely showing him her phone screen and trying to keep breathing at a somewhat normal pace. When the phone vibrated, Catelyn’s photo showing on the screen as she called again, Sandor was the one who plucked the phone from her hands and answered.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Sansa demanded, knees trembling. She was clutching Sandor’s arm to remain standing, and Sandor nodded, reaching up to pat her cheek.

 

“Yeah, she’s right here. We’ll be right over,” he was saying.

 

“Who’s dead?” Sansa was almost hysterical; she felt like everyone was likely looking at them but she couldn’t stop herself from shrieking.

 

“No one is dead,” Sandor clicked the phone off and pressed it back into her hand, kissing her forehead.

 

“Then what the hell is wrong?” Sansa moaned, thinking about Bran or the dogs. Was her father bankrupt? Did Lysa murder a man?

 

“Talisa is in labor,” Sandor stated, a slight smile on his face. After a pause, Sansa’s stomach returned with a vengeance, turning flips. She stood very still, just comprehending what was happening. She was going to be an aunt. The baby was coming, she was going to meet him or her.

 

“Oh my god,” she realized abruptly, “we have to go to the hospital, like now! Right now!”

 

“Oh, no more skating, what a shame,” Sandor muttered and Sansa grabbed his hand, yanking him out of line.

 

“Not now! We have to get to the hospital!”

 

“You don’t want hot chocolate?” Sandor dug his heels in, clearly enjoying himself. Sansa grabbed his face.

 

“Dude, I adore you but if we miss the birth of this baby, I will murder you with my bare hands.”

 

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Sandor relented, laughing.

 

“Faster, faster, faster,” Sansa chanted as he drove towards the hospital. For the first time ever, it seemed like Sandor was determined to go the speed limit and slow down for every yellow light.

 

“Do you know how long it takes to give birth to a baby?” Sandor glanced at her as they waited at a light. Sansa was drumming her fingers on the center console and kept crossing and uncrossing her legs.

 

“I’ve never done it, so no,” she responded tartly and he snorted.

 

“Reassuring.”

 

“Just get us there,” Sansa ordered, bouncing her knees.

 

“I’ll do it in one piece, unless you want to go through the emergency room route,” Sandor retorted and Sansa glanced at him.

 

“Think that’s faster?”

 

In the end, Sandor got them to the hospital safely and Sansa ran inside, frantically trying to call her mother and figure out where they were. Sandor had to speak politely to the nurses at the desk while Sansa paced back and forth. Once they finally knew where they were going, Sandor held Sansa’s hand if only to prevent her from sprinting through the halls.

 

“Sansa!” Catelyn gasped when Sansa came into the lobby, tugging Sandor the whole way.

 

“Mom!” Sansa rushed to give her a hug. “Where’s Robb, how’s Talisa, where is everyone, are they—”

 

“Fine, fine, fine,” Catelyn was beaming, tears in her eyes, “Robb is getting snacks, Arya is in Talisa’s room, and your father is getting Bran and Rickon from home. They’ll be here soon.”

 

“Can I see her?” Sansa looked to the door eagerly.

 

“Go ahead,” Catelyn encouraged and Sansa glanced up at Sandor, who gave her an encouraging nudge.

 

"Hey you!" Talisa was sitting up in bed, cheerfully eating ice chips. Arya was sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping something rapidly her phone.

 

"Oh my god," Sansa rushed to her bedside, embracing Talisa. "How are you? Okay? Is there anything you need? What's going on?"

 

"The baby is coming, crazy lady," Arya remarked and Sansa narrowed her eyes at her little sister.

 

"I'm just fine," Talisa laughed, squeezing Sansa's elbow.

 

"What can I do to help?" Sansa asked urgently.

 

"Stop worrying," Talisa patted her cheek and gestured to Arya, "like your sister."

 

"She's having a baby, not performing brain surgery," Arya laughed and Sansa opened her mouth to extol her sister on why the miracle of life and birth was so profound and just how many things could go wrong when Arya's phone chimed and she grinned.

 

"Hey guys," Jon answered and Arya spun so that he could see them through Facetime and vice versa.

 

"Jon!" Talisa gave a delighted wave.

 

"When's your flight?" Arya asked urgently and Jon rubbed his eyes.

 

"Three days. I'd move it up, but I don't think that it'd do any good. We're getting a ton of snow right now anyways."

 

"No, wait," Talisa suggested, "the baby won't be going anywhere."

 

"All of you are not taking this seriously enough," Sansa cried.

 

"No, you're taking this too seriously," Arya scoffed, at the same time Jon made a noise of amusement.

 

"Ice chip?" Talisa offered her one with an innocent look.

 

As it turned out, the business of having a baby was a slow sort, and so Sansa calmed down. An hour passed, then two. The doctor told them that Talisa had delayed coming into the hospital for as long as she could and that the birth would be progressing quickly, but Sansa doubted his words.

 

Rickon and Bran went home at Robb’s insistence that they didn’t need to miss sleep for this. Catelyn called them an Uber rather than take them back herself and miss anything. Sansa insisted that Sandor could go home and sleep as well, but he was content to stay with her, watching as Arya nodded off in a hospital chair, curled up like a cat.

 

It was past midnight when Sansa began to grow drowsy herself. The hospital only had thick, black coffee so she was trying to stay awake on green tea alone, and failing. Every so often Robb would come back to the waiting room and they would all jolt awake in anticipation, only for Robb to shake his head and go get more ice chips.

 

“This baby better hurry the hell up,” Arya complained, as the clock neared 1:30 in the morning, “I have a final presentation tomorrow.”

 

“You do?” Catelyn turned to her in alarm, “then you should be getting ready, young lady.”

 

“If I leave now, Sansa claims godparent,” Arya protested and Sansa raised a fist, eyelids drooping heavily.

 

“Damn straight.”

 

“I am assuming there will be other grandchildren,” Catelyn said dryly.

 

“Not that are the first ones,” Arya replied and Catelyn looked like she was going to argue, except Robb was back and now ashen faced.

 

“Mom, Talisa is asking for you, it’s happening,” his voice was high with panic.

 

“Me?” Catelyn seemed shocked.

 

“Well, her parents aren’t here and she said she wants a mother there and you’re the only mother we have so I asked her if she really wanted to and she screamed at me to come get you because the baby is really coming now so—” he rambled.

 

“ROBB!” Arya and Sansa both bellowed and he shut up, reaching his hand out to Catelyn. Stunned, she let Sandor help her rise. Mother and son disappeared into the room, leaving four incredulous people behind.

 

“Talisa wants your mother there,” Ned looked rather proud.

 

“Who cares, the baby is coming!” Sansa shrieked, leaping up to pace them room. Any trace of sleep was forgotten; she was about to become an aunt.

 

“Someone needs to sedate her,” Arya yawned.

 

Sansa’s pacing seemed to pay off; not 20 minutes later, Catelyn came rushing back into the waiting room and threw herself into Ned’s arms, promptly bursting into tears.

 

“What, what, are they okay? Is everything okay?” Ned demanded, shaking his wife slightly. Sansa and Arya both stepped towards them, Sansa reaching her hand out for Sandor.

 

“It’s a boy!” Catelyn shouted, for the entire hospital to hear. “Healthy baby boy! 7 pounds, 3 ounces! Oh Ned, he looks just like Robb did as a baby!” then she dissolved into sobs and was unable to say anything else.

 

“Well can we go see them?” Arya poked her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, can we go in there or what?”

 

“A boy,” Sansa whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She turned to Sandor with a watery smile, reaching up to grab his face. He smiled down at her sweetly.

 

“Congrats, auntie.”

 

“I’m an auntie!” Sansa’s sobs soon were as bad as her mother’s and Sandor brought her in for a hug. Arya was still loudly questioning,

 

“Well, can we go see it or what?”

 

“Grandparents first,” Catelyn said, once she’d gotten ahold of herself. Arya pouted but didn’t fight it, so Ned and Catelyn both went into the room and Sansa took the opportunity to dry her tears.

 

“Should someone tell your brothers?” Sandor suggested lightly and Arya whipped out her phone.

 

“I’ll do it since I can’t go meet the squirt myself.”

 

But Arya didn’t have to wait long. After a several minutes their parents came back and Catelyn gave them the all clear to go in and see the baby. She made Arya promise to whisper, as to not overwhelm Talisa, then sent them on their way. Sansa pushed the door open slowly, her phone body trembling in anticipation.

 

“Hey, you guys,” Talisa sounded dead tired, but a faint smile lingered on her face. Robb was standing over her, a bundle in his arms, beaming from ear to ear.

 

“Is that him?” Sansa pointed to the bundle, tears starting yet again.

 

“It is,” Robb was fit to burst with pride, “I want you guys to meet Alek Luka Stark.”

 

“Luka for my father,” Talisa explained, “and the next boy will have Eddard, but Alek Eddard? Too many vowels.”

 

“Can I hold him?” Sansa requested, holding her arms out and Robb nodded, ever so gently placing his son in Sansa’s arms. She looked down at his tiny face in wonder.

 

“Holy shit, he’s like a real life human,” Arya muttered behind her and for once in her life, Sansa couldn’t bring herself to reprimand her sister for her language.

 

“Hi Alek,” Sansa whispered to him, leaning down and brushing her lips ever so gently over his tiny tuft of hair, “my name is Sansa and I’m your aunt. I’m going to teach you all the fun stuff and you’re never going to have a bedtime and we’ll have ice cream for breakfast.”

 

“He’s an hour old, you can’t be spoiling him already,” Robb protested and Talisa wiped away tears.

 

“He’s my nephew, I will do what I want,” Sansa insisted through her tears and Robb just chuckled.

 

She, Sandor, and Arya spent a little bit cooing and fussing over baby Alek, until Robb finally noticed that Talisa was nodding off and shooed them from the room. Sansa said goodbye to her nephew with great reluctance, but she too was unable to keep her eyes open for more than a minute and went without a lot of fuss.

 

“You can come back tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that,” Robb promised her, as he walked them to the door.

 

“I am going to babysit every single day,” Sansa reminded him, yawning.

 

“Threat or promise?” Robb’s eyes sparkled as he kissed Sansa’s head, punched Arya’s shoulder, and shook Sandor’s hand.

 

“I’ll get them home safe,” Sandor promised and Robb clapped him on the back before waving goodbye.

 

“Why aren’t you tired?” Arya asked Sandor as they clambered into his truck.

 

“Insomnia,” Sansa explained, leaning her seat back so she could relax.

 

“Oh shit, Gendry says he feels that sometimes,” Arya gave him a sympathetic look.

 

“Maybe we should hang out,” Sandor remarked and Sansa snorted, but Arya didn’t shut it down.

 

Sandor dropped Arya off first, then made sure she got into her dorm safely. He dropped Sansa off and made sure she called Mel to explain why she would be skipping morning conditioning before giving her a kiss.

 

“Thanks for coming,” Sansa muttered, “and for taking me skating. Sorry it got cut short.”

 

“Oh, what a shame,” Sandor gave her another kiss, chuckling.

 

“I love you,” Sansa said sleepily, hardly aware of what she said. Sandor gave her one last, rather startled kiss before shepherding her inside.

 

It wasn’t until she was in bed and nearly asleep did it occur to Sansa what exactly she’d blurted out. 

 

* * *

 

fuck the left side - your left side is usually less flexible than your right side so stretching it sucks. 

 

a la seconde turns into an arabesque - turns where you hold your leg out at a 90 degree angle and there arabesque is when the leg is wrapped behind, held high

 

8 counts - in dance you do everything with the 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 count

 

russian - a jump where your legs are to the sides, making a 180 degree split, arms above legs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> urgh i just love love love babies i hope you all enjoyed this please please please leave and review and tell me what you think!!!


	23. Summit Ave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends - first and foremost, Summit Ave is a street in St Paul with awesome, cool old mansions. I desperately want to tour them. If you like old homes, please be my friend and come with me. 
> 
> Also, not to be a downer, but I think there might be a slight gap in my posting for a moment - my partner is employed by the government so this shutdown is doing a small number on us. It's taking up a lot of my mental space so I may take a break just to get things straightened out. I love and appreciate you all so much - I promise this story will be back. 
> 
> without further ado, a little bit of holiday spirit to brighten up the gloom!

**So how is the little man**

 

_Attachment: 1 image_

_LOOK AT HIS LIL BOWTIE_

 

_i got that for him can you tell_

 

**I’ve never gotten a bowtie from you**

 

_Do you want one???_

 

**I’ve been replaced**

 

_You are in Colorado!_

 

**Replaced**

 

_Stop it you know there’s room for two in my life_

 

**You say that now, but what about in the future? He’ll start walking, talking, being cute.**

 

_You’re cute too._

 

**Sure little bird.**

 

_Hush. When do you fly back in? I think Talisa and Robb are sick of me. Or maybe it’s just mom._

 

**Saturday morning. Has she left their house at all?**

 

_Uh, no. But Talisa’s parents fly in soon, so she’s going to have to share him._

 

**More like you’re going to have to share.**

 

_He’s my lil man!_

 

**Yes, I’m aware. You busy Saturday?**

 

_No, you told to take it off my calendar. But you didn’t tell me where we’re going._

 

**Don’t be cranky, you’re going to have fun.**

 

_Oh my god, tell me already._

 

**How about a hint?**

 

_You’re not funny._

 

**Alright just look cute. Holiday party attire.**

 

_WHERE ARE WE GOING_

 

“Who died and made your mother Nanny Popkins?” Talisa hissed, as Sansa rocked Alek’s cradle with her foot and finished her Interpersonal Communications homework.

 

“It’s Mary Poppins, but just a reminder, she did raise seven kids to semi-adulthood with moderate amounts of success,” Sansa said carefully and Talisa threw a dirty rag in the general vicinity of the hamper before whirling around to wash bottles.

 

“She told me I changed diapers wrong! The diaper is on him, isn’t it?”

 

“Do you need me to do that?” Sansa asked, watching as Talisa flung half dry bottles at the rack. Talisa rounded on her and Sansa hastily backtracked. “Not because you’re doing it wrong! Just trying to be helpful.”

 

“No,” Talisa deflated some, “you need to finish your homework. Arya is coming over soon, she is a good distraction.”

 

“Yes, but you love me more than her, right?” Sansa cooed to Alek, who remained slumbering, oblivious.

 

“He has too many aunts and uncles, he can’t tell any of you apart,” Talisa reminded her and Sansa waited until her back was turned to shake her head at Alek, grinning.

 

“Would you please take mom with you when you leave?” Robb pleaded with Sansa, coming up the stairs from the laundry room.

 

“I thought you appreciated her help,” Sansa remarked, glancing at the living room. Catelyn was putting up Christmas decorations that she had vetted as baby safe, occasionally coming in to refold the laundry Robb was doing.

 

“We do,” Talisa said tiredly, “but it would be nice from a distance for awhile.”

 

“I’ll take her,” Sansa promised, standing and putting her books away in her bag. “But only if you admit I’m Alek’s favorite aunt or uncle.”

 

“You’re the favorite, you’ve always been the favorite, you’ll always be the favorite, now go,” Robb waved her on and Sansa beamed, bending down to kiss Alek’s head and give Talisa a hug.

 

“You’re doing great, mama.”

 

“Are you leaving sweetie?” Catelyn asked, when Sansa poked her head into the living room.

 

“Yeah mom, I’m going to head out. I think Robb and Talisa need some peace,” she told her.

 

“Drive safe!” Catelyn kept putting up decorations until Sansa cleared her throat.

 

“Mom, I think we both can go,” she stated, a bit more obviously and Catelyn hesitated.

 

“You think?” she looked back at the prim garland she’d been straightening on the mantle. 

 

“Yes, mom,” Sansa reached her hand out and caught her mother’s elbow.

 

“What is something happens and they need me?” Catelyn dug her heels in.

 

“Talisa is still a nurse,” Sansa said patiently, “and despite what dad says, Robb isn’t an idiot. Let them do it for a night. C’mon grandma, you can tuck Rickon in and fuss over him.”

 

“He’d love that,” Catelyn snorted and Sansa grinned. “Alright, let me say my goodbyes then.”

 

“Sure,” Sansa watched at Catelyn kissed Alek goodbye; Talisa mouthed ‘thank you’ at her when Catelyn wasn’t looking.

 

“How’s the world’s cutest baby?” Jeyne called when Sansa let herself back into their apartment.

 

“Adorable,” Sansa responded, stomping her boots off of snow.

 

“I saw your insta story of him in the bowtie,” Margaery was in the kitchen searching for snacks, “did you get him that?”

 

“Yes,” Sansa said proudly and she snorted.

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

The week went by quickly; Sansa was busy enough with all her events and the added stress of Christmas on top of it that she could hardly even think about the fact that she had the holiday party with Sandor that weekend. He refused to tell her where exactly it was going to be held, so she was left to try and decide her look for the night based on exactly nothing at all.

 

"And you have no idea where you're going?" Jeyne was sitting on her bed, looking enthralled.

 

"Correct," Sansa muttered, standing in the middle of her bedroom and looking around in desperation, "now where the fuck is my watch?"

 

"Silver one?" Jeyne went to her jewelry box.

 

"No, the gold one with the leather strap. Please," Sansa added, fiddling with her earrings. She was getting ready for Sandor's mystery holiday party, trying to figure out just what the hell she was going to wear. She'd settled on a cream knit top with a full gold skirt and heels, but she wasn't sure if she was over or under dressed for the event.

 

"You look amazing though," Jeyne said, as she clasped the correct watch on Sansa's wrist.

 

"Thanks," Sansa grinned at her, smoothing down her skirt. The outfit was a favorite of her's and she thought it would be a rather dramatic statement. She'd told Sandor her color scheme for the night and hoped he would tell her if it was alright, but he was still being evasive. "What you doing tonight then?"

 

"Going with Beric to study," Jeyne brightened and Sansa grinned at her.

 

"Things are better then?"

 

"Getting there," Jeyne decided hesitantly, "I think we just needed to find a little balance. Between life and death, and some normalcy."

 

"I'm glad," Sansa kissed her head on the way to the bathroom to apply makeup.

 

"Yeah, but it's no mystery holiday party," Jeyne followed her, arms still crossed.

 

"I will text you the second I know more," Sansa promised as she grabbed a bold lip color, "and are my curls falling?"

 

"No, never," Jeyne handed her the hairspray nonetheless.

 

Sansa was just pulling on her peacoat when the lock in the door rattled; she and Jeyne exchanged startled looks. Margaery had told them she was with her cousins getting a pedicure and wouldn't be home until later, but here she was.

 

"Shit," Sansa looked at Jeyne, dumbfounded. She was too nicely dressed for Margaery to not notice. Then she'd have questions, demands, and Sansa wasn't sure how much longer she could lie.

 

"Bundle, bundle," Jeyne snapped out of it first, snatching a scarf off the rack and looping it around Sansa's nicely curled hair. She stepped out of her heels and into boots, hiking her skirt up so that Margaery wouldn't see the glittering gold.

 

"And Rosie, I told you it was a bad idea to do brunch for a first date," Margaery said loudly, unlocking the door, "guys hate brunch."

 

"See you, bye!" Sansa yelled, muffled through the scarf, trying to dart past Margaery before she could get a good look at her.

 

"Wha--" Margaery barely had time to glimpse her and Sansa was gone, slamming the door shut behind her. She paused to slow her racing heart and heard Margaery ask Jeyne, "where the hell is she going?"

 

"To see baby Alek," Jeyne responded nonchalantly.

 

"She is obsessed with that kid," Margaery stated and Sansa grinned, trucking out to her Jeep. She pulled her layers off and neatly smoothed out her skirt once again. She'd have to fix her hair at Sandor's; it was a good thing she had a couple basic styling tools that she was storing in one of the empty drawers in the bathroom.

 

"I need to fix my hair, but will you come tell me if I at least look okay?" Sansa shouted when she let herself into the apartment. Sandor stuck his head into the bathroom as she heated up a curling iron.

 

"You look amazing," he remarked and Sansa turned to him with a huff.

 

"Yes, but do I look appropriate?"

 

"I mean, I think you always look better naked, but--"

 

"Sandor!"

 

"You will be the prettiest, best dressed little bird in the room," Sandor promised her, walking into the bathroom to give her a tender kiss on the cheek. Sansa smiled up at him, proud that he remembered not to kiss her when she was wearing a bold lip.

 

"You look pretty damn handsome yourself," she complimented when she turned back to the mirror. Sandor was wearing a suit and tie, his hair slicked back into a low bun. He was adjusting gold cuff links and when Sansa was done with one curl, set down the wand to help him.

 

"Why are you redoing your hair?" he asked, as she straightened his sleeves.

 

"Jeyne bundled me in a scarf," she explained absentmindedly. Sandor frowned at her but didn't push it.

 

"Are you ready then?" he fiddled with his tie, glancing at her through the mirror.

 

"Almost," she promised, touching up the tendrils by her face. "Are you at least going to tell me where we're going now?"

 

"Absolutely not, you'll find out when we get there," he promised with a rouge-ish grin and Sansa sighed.

 

"This is stressing me out."

 

"I know, that's half of why it's so fun," with a devilish wink, he was back in his bedroom.

 

They took his truck; Sansa tried to figure out where they were going based on directions alone but then Talisa sent them a picture in the group chat of Alek visiting Santa for the first time and she was distracted. By the time she looked up again, they were down a side street, passing large gates and larger houses. Sansa looked around for any vantage point of where they were, before pulling up her phone.

 

“Where are we going?” she asked him for the hundredth time.

 

“I told you a holiday party,” he responded and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

“You’re being a pain in the ass on purpose,” she grumbled and he reached across, squeezing her hand.

 

“You’re going to have so much fun,” he promised, turning down a driveway that had extremely nice cars parked down the sides.

 

“Where are we….” Sansa trailed off, looking back and forth.

 

“You know Zach Parise,” Sandor said, ever so nonchalantly, and Sansa’s heart stopped, “he has just a little holiday party.”

 

“I am,” her voice trembled, “going to kill you.”

 

“No you won’t,” Sandor grinned cheekily, “because if I’d have told you where we going before, you would’ve panicked about it. You’re stressed out enough with finals, you didn’t need this.”

 

“Yes, now all that stress is just cascading over me in one giant wave,” she hissed, as Sandor neared the large house, brightly decorated with Christmas lights.

 

“You are going to be fine,” he promised and then they were parking, Sandor sliding out of the car and coming around to help her out. He tossed the keys to the valet and reached out for her hand. Sansa took a deep breath and smoothed out her skirt, looking up at Sandor. He smiled, reaching back and tucking away a bit of her hair.

 

“I am going to murder you,” she threatened him one last time, before letting him bring her into the house.

 

Someone took Sansa's coat from here and whirled away with it. Sandor seemed to magically make champagne appear out of thin air and she clasped the glass tightly, looking around in awe. The house was beautifully decorated with festive trees, lights, and baubles. Everywhere she looked brought a delightful new surprise so she stood on the spot, rotating slightly, until Sandor gently pulled her out of the way.

 

After a moment it occurred to her that there was a high chance she would see someone she knew, even if only through her tv screen. With every look, her stomach turned over, equally thrilled and terrified that she'd see a famous hockey face. Sandor took her by the elbow and carefully guided her deeper into the house, weaving through the crowd with a confidence that meant he'd been here before.

 

"Mutt!" a loud voice boomed and Sandor turned so suddenly Sansa nearly sloshed her champagne all over herself. A man was cutting a path to them, arms spread wide. He was only slightly taller than Sansa was with her heels on, with graying brown hair and a slight belly. Sansa wasn't ashamed to admit that she knew exactly who he was from her time spent reading Sandor's player profile.

 

"Bronn Black-Waters, son of a bitch," Sandor exclaimed, embracing him, "how have you been?"

 

"Can't complain," Bronn slapped Sandor's back several times before he pulled away, "what about you?"

 

"Fine, fine," Sandor looked at him like he couldn't quite believe he was there, "what the hell?"

 

"Front office is looking at some changes," Bronn revealed "and so I got sent as a scout."

 

"Well don't take Dumba or she'll throw a fit," Sandor laughed, gesturing to Sansa. She smiled and gave Bronn a little raise of her glass. All interest in Sandor lost, he stepped towards her and took her hand.

 

"Who's this now?" he asked in wonder, giving her a little spin. Sansa's gold skirt flared slightly and she didn't miss Sandor's smirk when she came to a stop.

 

"Watts, meet Sansa Stark. My girlfriend."

 

"Girlfriend?" Bronn's eyebrows shot up and for a moment, Sansa held her breath. She was too young for him. She was still a student. She wasn't mature, she wasn't a model, she wasn't the kind of woman for him. "What the hell does a beautiful woman like her want with a 4th line grinder like you?"

 

"Ask myself that every day," Sandor replied with pride and Sansa's cheeks flamed.

 

"Is he holding you captive?" Bronn demanded, "you can tell me if he is."

 

"Alright, enough," Sandor smacked his shoulder and then tugged Sansa back to his side.

 

"Just checking," Bronn gave her wink and took a drink of what appeared to be whiskey.

 

"So who else is here?" Sandor asked and Bronn surveyed the crowd for a minute before he started pointing.

 

"That's Lou, you'll remember him from the USHSL, and did you see Scotty on your way in? Don't know where Johnson got off to, but he'll come back eventually, man can't go ten minutes without a drink...."

 

Sansa was surprised at just how many people Sandor seemed to know at the party. Hockey players, general managers, agents, scouts, even lawyers, doctors, and businessmen had been invited to the party. Sandor introduced her to every single one. Sansa couldn't stop beaming; she thought of all the parties she'd attended where her father or Robb had been the center of attention. Sandor didn't banish her to the kitchen with the other wives; every conversation he found a way to work her into, and listened attentively.

 

Sansa tried to keep the names and faces straight but after three glasses of champagne, it was getting difficult. When she muttered to Sandor and Bronn that all hockey wives looked the same, Sandor coughed to hide his laughter and Bronn nearly shot whiskey out his nose. After that, Sandor made sure she rotated in water. Eventually Sansa found herself in a corner, chatting with several people.

 

"And so then I called the ref an asshole and got kicked out. But I remembered my hot chocolate so it was worth it," Sansa finished her story with a cheeky grin, earning laughter.

 

“You remind me of my fucking mom,” one of the agents that was perched on the footstool said, shaking his head with a grin.

 

“Hockey sisters turn into hockey moms,” Bronn remarked and Sandor turned to him sharply. Bronn smirked and took a drink from his glass while one of the woman gasped and reached for Sansa’s left hand.

 

“Oh, no ring. I thought that was hint,” she pouted, before wagging a finger at Bronn, “now don’t you be pressuring him, Watts.”

 

“Me? I would never pressure one of my esteemed bachelor ranks into marriage,” Bronn remarked grandly and everyone within earshot snorted.

 

“Well, it wasn’t like the ref didn’t have it coming,” Sandor interjected, clearly trying to steer the topic of conversation back into something a little bit more neutral.

 

“Didn’t you once punch a ref when he didn’t call that hit on Perry?” another man asked and Sandor shook his head.

 

“Punch? No. But I sure as hell tripped him.”

 

“Sandor!” Sansa burst into laughter while he grinned at her.

 

“Weird to hear someone call you by your name and not mutt,” Bronn looked a little perturbed.

 

“He’s Sandor to me,” Sansa gazed up at him lovingly and Sandor rested a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Would you like another drink?”

 

“Please.”

 

“Alright,” Sandor kissed the top of her head ever so gently and then went with Bronn back towards the drink table. No sooner had he gotten out of earshot that every woman within a five foot vicinity of Sansa immediately came to her side.

 

“So you have to tell me how you did it,” said one, who was the wife of some lawyer. The others were people Sansa had been introduced to, albeit briefly, so she gave her best glittering smile, even though she was slightly bewildered.

 

“Did what?”

 

“You’re dating Sandor Clegane,” said another, with an awed tone.

 

“We have been trying to get him set up with a girl for ages,” said the first woman again, before extending a perfectly manicured hand to her. “Molly, by the way.”

 

“Oh, yes, of course,” Sansa shook it, trying to pretend she knew what was going on.

 

“So how did you two meet?” asked the blonde at Sansa’s elbow, “I don’t remember the last time he ever had a girlfriend.”

 

“I don’t think there was one,” snorted someone behind her and Sansa couldn’t quite tell if the banter was genuine or cutting words hidden by smiles and laughter. Her mother was better at this, navigating the faux-politeness. But everyone was smiling so eagerly at Sansa, so she carefully revealed,

 

“It was an athletic fundraiser for the U.”

 

“Work, told you,” a scout remarked to the agent and Sansa looked at them in surprise; she hadn’t realized they were listening.

 

“And it just took off from there,” she continued, a little hesitantly. She purposefully keep the details vague. She wasn’t sure Sandor wanted her broadcasting that she was still a student.

 

“Are things serious between you two?” Molly’s eyes were wide as she clasped Sansa’s hands.

 

“Er, yes?” Sansa guessed and Molly sighed, patting her knee.

 

“Oh, good. You seem like just a doll. I’m so glad he’s found someone good for him.”

 

“Thank you?” Sansa looked up in relief as Sandor brought her back some sort of cocktail in a martini glass.

 

“Want to come with me?” he requested, “I have a couple people who would love to meet you.”

 

“It was so nice meeting you all,” Sansa said graciously to the women, who tittered their goodbyes as she rose and joined Sandor.

 

“Sorry for leaving you with the sharks,” Sandor muttered in her ear as they glided through the party.

 

“They seemed nice enough,” she responded and Sandor chuckled.

 

“Oh, they are, unless they’re trying to get you to go on a date with their cousin.”

 

“I didn’t know I snagged such an eligible bachelor,” Sansa teased and Bronn came up on her other side.

 

“Oh, you didn’t, love.”

 

“Ignore him,” Sandor looked amused nonetheless.

 

“So is there someone who really wants to meet me?” she asked, “or were you just lying to get us away from the others?”

 

“Oh, no, you’ll want to meet these guys,” Sandor chuckled and Sansa frowned slightly as he guided her up a large staircase. At the top, there was a slight crowd, mostly Minnesota Wild players. To Sansa’s surreal disbelief, a few turned and raised their hands in greeting, smiling at her.

 

“Alright, say goodnight,” she heard Zach Parise order and for a moment, she couldn’t see over the backs of everyone else, until Sandor gently tugged her to the front of the group and they shifted aside. There, each with a baby on their hip, stood Zach and his wife. Their twins were waving chubby hands to everyone and Sansa’s entire heart melted.

 

“Night,” the little boy cried and Sansa reached down to clasp Sandor’s hand tightly. She had a sudden, forceful longing to FaceTime Robb and demand to see Alek, but she squashed it.

 

“Okay, time for bed then,” Zach handed the little boy he was holding off to his wife, who disappeared into a room. Then he came over to Sandor, smiling with his hand extended. “Clegane! Glad you made it.”

 

“Thanks for the invite,” Sandor shook his hand and turned to Sansa. “I think you’ve met my girlfriend, Sansa Stark?”

 

“Just the once, after a game,” Sansa shook his hand, fighting back the giddy urge to blurt out that she loved him.

 

“I remember,” he smiled at her, wide and bright,“didn't you volunteer to babysit Jax and Emmy?”

 

“I might have,” Sansa cringed sightly while Sandor laughed.

 

“Well, I’d offer for you to start tonight, but we’ve got grandma here,” Zach gave her a warm smile, “but I’ll keep you in mind.”

 

“Oh, anytime,” Sansa’s brain had entirely ceased to function.

 

“She actually has a newborn nephew,” Sandor revealed.

 

“His name is Alek,” Sansa worked had to quash every bit of desire in her to pull out her phone and start flipping through pictures.

 

“Oh, congratulations,” Zach told her, before someone tapped him on the shoulder and with a regretful goodbye, he departed. Sansa turned to look up at a smirking Sandor.

 

“If you just got me that babysitting gig,” she said reverently, “I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he kissed her cheek, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

 

“Mhmm,” Sansa was still baffled at the turn of events as Sandor led her back down to the party.

 

It wasn’t until they were nearly ready to leave that Sansa realized what had been so different about tonight than every other party. She kept her mouth shut as Sandor said their Minnesota goodbye, and finally collected their coats. She was quiet, even as they waited for the valet to bring Sandor’s truck and he tucked her into his side to protect her from the cold wind. She was quiet until they were in the truck and driving back towards the bright lights of the city.

 

“Did you have fun?” he asked her, glancing over, “you’re not very chatty.”

 

“It was the most amazing night,” Sansa assured him, “I’m just thinking about some stuff.”

 

“Like what, Alek in an elf costume?” he snorted and Sansa gave him a sideways look.

 

“As cute as that is, no.”

 

“Oh? Sandor appeared surprised, “what then?”

 

“You treat me differently,” she said quietly and Sandor spared a glance from the road to look at her in slight alarm.

 

“Yeah? Than who? Good or bad?”

 

“Than everyone, and good,” she explained, playing with the sequins on her skirt.

 

“Go on,” he requested and Sansa took a deep breath.

 

“At things like that, if you’re my siblings, you just ignore me or make fun of me for behaving. Arya and Rickon were usually playing some prank, Robb, Jon, and Theon were trying to steal booze, and Bran was just looking for an escape. And if you’re my mom, you’re busy criticizing everything about me and what I do. Telling me that my skirt is too short, or that my hair is a mess, or that I was rude to so and so for not asking them about their orchids or whatever.

 

“And if you’re my dad, you sort of just trot me out in front of everyone like all the trophies he keeps, because while he loves us, he isn’t exactly sure what to do with all of us, so he just recites a bunch of our accomplishments and then sends us on our way again. And if you’re any other adult there, you’re too self absorbed in your own image to try and make a genuine connection with someone.

 

“And if you’re my friends, you’re trying to get drunk, or laid, or something else that you don’t give a shit beyond anything than your own self. You’d rather be the one being taken care of than the caregiver, so you get wasted and forget you’re the driver, or you run off with someone you just met and leave me to walk home by myself with my pepper spray.

 

“And if you were one of my any ex-boyfriends, you’d get me dressed up and then you’d prance around with me on your arm and not give two shits about what I say. You’d only care about how I looked and the image I gave off, so who cares if I got too drunk or if I wanted to go home or if I was sad, stressed out, anything. As long as I was the pretty but quiet bitch on your arm, you’d be happy.”

 

“And I’m not any of that?” Sandor asked hopefully, after a long beat of silence.

 

“No, absolutely not,” Sansa reached over and took his hand. “You care about if I’m alright. You let me drink but you’re not trying to get me drunk. You introduce me to people and care about what I say. You listen to me, and not just waiting until it’s your turn to say something again. You come rescue me from people. You don’t care if I don’t look like all those other hockey wives.”

 

“I mean, you do, but go on,” he snorted and Sansa smiled slightly.

 

“You’re nice to me, really nice. And I love you.”

 

It was the first time it’d came up since Alek’s birth. She’d said it then, sleepy and dazed, but Sandor hadn’t seemingly made a note of it, so part of her believed that she dreamed it up. The other part of her was convinced he had heard her and didn’t feel the same way, but she had no idea why he would keep inviting her to things and calling her his girlfriend if he just planned on dumping her. A rational talk with Jeyne had mostly reassured her that he just wasn’t ready to say it back.

 

And this time, just like last, Sandor didn’t say a word, staring straight ahead. Sansa folded her hands in her lap and held tight to them, trying not to panic. She’d said it, put it out there. She was over trying to suppress it anymore. She loved him. Full stop. End of story. That was that.

 

“Sandor?” she finally asked, when they were nearly back to his apartment. She hated how meek she sounded, that she feared his response. His gaze darted out to her, just for the smallest fraction of a second.

 

“We’re going home little bird. And then I’m going to take your clothes off and I’m going to love you.”

 

“Alright,” she breathed.

 

She realized, after they’d stumbled into Sandor’s bedroom in a state of undress, that even thought he hadn’t said it back to her, he was trying to show her. Everything was about her; Sandor seemed to only want to please her. He had Sansa down on the bed, going slow and sensual like she enjoyed, but with a desperate enough pace that she knew he was holding himself back.

 

She screamed when he made her finish. It was impossible not to. All the sensations were overwhelming, making her entire body electric. She lay on the bed afterwards, quivering. Sandor lay beside her, kissing her shoulder and neck, until she regained control of her legs and rolled on top of him.

 

In the morning, Sansa awoke to Sandor cooking her breakfast in the kitchen. With just a twinge of a hangover, she pulled on one of his discarded shirts and stumbled out of the bedroom, smiling up at him. He was making her the vegan tofu scramble she’d become obsessed with, though he was frying bacon for himself. Sansa went to his side, stretching up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

 

“Morning,” he muttered, flipping the bacon.

 

“I offered to babysit for Parise last night, real or imagined?” she asked him, going to get fruit from the fridge.

 

“Very real,” he chuckled.

 

“And he sorta agreed to it?”

 

“Still real.”

 

“And then he offered to let me adopt them?”

 

“Imagined, little bird,” his eyes sparkled in amusement.

 

“But then we had the best sex and now you’re making me my favorite breakfast?” she grinned cheekily at him as she started to peel an orange.

 

“Real, and always ready to be offered again,” he made to grab her butt and she danced out of reach, laughing.

 

It didn’t bother her that he didn’t say it aloud. She knew he loved her. And she loved this.

 

* * *

 

4th line grinder - you have 4 lines in hockey, usually if you're on the 4th line, you're good but not great, so you have to grind to keep playing

Minnesota goodbye - you say goodbye to everyone and then say goodbye again and then one more time in case you missed someone so feelings aren't hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i love you all so much, blessings, here's to sunshine for you all! reviews are everything!


	24. Lefse and Lutefisk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends thank you and bless you for the love and support these last couple weeks. it means the absolute world. bless bless bless. hurray for governments, however functional. 
> 
> also i gave my sister the link to this story, aka the first time anyone besides you people on the internet has ever read my writing so lmao hi beans don't think i'm weird please 
> 
> here is some christmas cheer for this very gloom January. it's -9 here without the windchill so i hope you all have fuzzy socks wherever you are!!!
> 
> ALSO MN GOPHER DANCE IS 19X NATIONAL CHAMPS I AM VERY EXCITED

**CS - Mother**

 

_Will everyone please send me an ETA for tomorrow?_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Whenever we’ve packed Alek’s entire closet in the truck_

 

**Bestest SiL**

 

_It is necessary!!!!!!_

 

**Pain in the Ass**

 

_@san when are you getting here_

 

_sandor and i will be leaving after workout so we should be over by 10:30 or 11 at the latest_

 

**CS - Mother**

 

_No Sansa, Sandor or Arya for lunch._

 

**Juan Nieve**

 

_I’m with Robb_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Mom, dad won’t leave Mills_

 

_can’t wait to see you all tomorrow!!!! v excited for presents!!!!!_

 

**Pain in the Ass**

 

_and jesus don’t forget about him_

 

**CS - Mother**

 

_Arya, enough. Bran, I will call your father. See you all tomorrow!_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Attachment: 1 image_

 

_We can’t wait!_

 

_WHO TOOK HIM TO SEE SANTA WITHOUT ME I’LL CUT YOU_

 

**Bestest SiL**

 

_You had dance!_

  

_of course i did when don’t i have dance_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_Damn the little shit is pretty cute_

 

**RickRock**

 

_can i get him a hockey stick for christmas_

 

**Handsomest Brother**

 

_Start um young!!!!_

 

**Bestest SiL**

 

_He needs one his size_

 

**RickRock**

 

_i got knee hockey sticks_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_what like he’s gonna be your goalie?_

 

**RickRock**

 

_hey yeah_

 

**Bestest SiL**

 

_NO_

 

**CS - Mother**

 

_NO._

 

**Juan Nieve**

 

_Let the kid have some fun_

 

**Pain in the Ass**

 

_lmao that’d be amazing. just prop him up_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Pucks would just bounce, wouldn’t they? They’re foam._

 

**CS - Mother**

 

_You’re all grounded._

 

_i’m not even there yet!_

 

**CS - Mother**

 

_It was easier when you all still believed in Santa._

 

_And consequences._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where the fuck am I going to sit?” Sandor stared in astonishment at her Jeep. Sansa looked at him then at the Jeep, failing to see his point.

 

“There,” she gestured to the passenger seat. Sandor looked at her incredulously before hefting his bag in his hand.

 

“And this?”

 

“Hmm,’ Sansa contemplated it, admitting that they might have a small problem. The entire back of her Jeep was filled, floor to ceiling, with wrapped gifts. “Can we strap it on top?”

 

“Where the fuck will Arya sit?” Sandor looked caught between annoyance and amusement.

 

“Can we strap her to the roof?”

 

“Little bird.”

 

“Oh, alright, I didn’t play Tetris as a kid for nothing,” Sansa took the bag from him and tried to start shifting stuff around. Sandor helped, until they were able to squeeze his small bag into one corner.

 

“Fucking hell, who are these all for?” Sandor demanded and Sansa cheerfully patted the white and gold snowflake wrapping paper.

 

“Well this half is for Alek and then the rest is for the rest of you.”

 

“Sounds right,” he laughed and opened her door for her. “Merry Christmas Eve, little bird.”

 

“You too sweetheart,” she kissed his cheek as she clambered in. He went around to the other side and got in, sighing when he had to move a gift bag to do so.

 

“Hey weirdos,” Arya greeted them when Sansa pulled up to the dorms. She clambered into the Jeep, shoving presents aside and making room for her bag.

 

“Excessive, right?” Sandor chuckled and Arya gave him a pitying look.

 

“This is mild compared to what she does usually.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” Sansa gave sad sigh, “I’ve had to do a lot of Amazon Priming and that just doesn’t feel like Christmas, you know?”

 

“Should I have brought more?” Sandor was beginning to look a little concerned.

 

“No, she overdoes it. Don’t try to live up to her, you’ll fail miserably. Trust me,” unbothered, Arya pulled out her phone and demanded, “pass the aux.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Sansa shoved the cord under her butt and Arya groaned.

 

“I hate your music!”

 

“Why didn’t Gendry come?” Sansa changed the topic of conversation quickly. 

 

“I’m not exposing him to this,” Arya scoffed.

 

“Are you guys doing gifts then?” Sansa pressed and Arya grumbled something.

 

“What?” Sandor turned in his seat to look at her.

 

“We already have,” Arya said, a little loudly and Sansa give a small cheer.

 

“Well, what did he get you?”

 

“Christmas is her favorite holiday, can you tell?” Arya remarked dryly.

 

“No, I’m with her on this one, what did he get you?” Sandor was curious.

 

“Don’t tell mom,” Arya ordered and Sansa laughed.

 

“As if.”

 

“I mean it,” Arya threatened, before rolling up her shirt sleeve. There, above her elbow crease, in tiny typewriter font, were the words _‘no one’._

 

“I don’t get it,” Sansa said, after a pause and Arya rolled her eyes, shaking her sleeve back down.

 

“It’s something I say a lot,” she explained, “when I get anxious or pissed or frustrated or whatever. It’s like a mantra. Who can hurt me? No one. Who can upset me? No one. Who do I have to fear? No one. Like I am the captain of my soul kinda shit.”

 

“That’s surprisingly beautiful,” Sansa was taken aback. She hadn't though Arya would ever need a mantra, let alone to the point of getting it on her body for her entire life. “I didn’t know that.”

 

“Yeah, well, he bought mine and I bought his,” Arya seemed a little embarrassed now, avoiding their eyes.

 

“What’d he get?” Sandor questioned and a little smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

 

“A compass. I called him a basic white boy.”

 

“Do you have a compass?” Sansa asked Sandor, thinking hard about his chest. She’d spent many a days tracing the tattoos there but they were so intricate that half the time she forgot what it all included.

 

“No and I’m glad if they’re basic,” he responded and Arya shot as far forward as her seat would allow.

 

“You have tattoos?” she yanked up his sleeve. “Where?”

 

“Chest,” Sansa answered with a smirk and Arya’s hands stopped.

 

“How did I not know that?” stunned, she sat back.

 

“I don’t make a point to be shirtless around your family,” Sandor quipped and Arya couldn’t argue that.

 

“What are they of? When did you get them? Are you going to get more? Where?” she rattled off and Sandor snorted. “Oh, and you have to make Sansa get one. You have to.”

 

“Unlikely,” Sansa said firmly and both her sister and boyfriend took turns badgering her the entire way to Winterfell on just how amazing tattoos were.

 

“Hi!” Catelyn whisper-screamed when they arrived and walked inside; it was instantly obvious why a moment later. Ned was fast asleep on the couch, Alek on his chest. Ned’s large hand rested on Alek’s back, and in sleep, their faces showed some resemblance.

 

“Oh my god,” Sansa melted into a puddle and went to go stroke Alek’s head.

 

“How many photos of that do you have on your phone?” she heard Arya whisper to their mother and Catelyn responded,

 

“Oh, a million.”

 

“Send them all to me,” Sansa requested, smiling up at them.

 

Sandor had asked, during the drive up, why they celebrated holidays at Winterfell. Sansa and Arya had explained that when the elder four children had went off to college, Ned and Catelyn downsized their city home. Winterfell was the best place to fit everyone, especially now with children and significant others. And, Sansa had explained, Winterfell was always the prettiest place to be in the winter, and the best place to be in the summer. The Stark family was always happiest near a lake any time of year.

 

Catelyn had outdone herself with the decorations this year. A huge tree took over one corner with a massive stack of presents below it. Above the mantle on the fireplace hung the intricately embroidered stockings. Sansa’s heart swelled to see that Talisa had a proper one this year, with swans decorating it, and that Alek’s was hung between her and Robb’s, teddy bears on his. Sandor’s stocking was not embroidered, but the fact that he had one up there at all was everything.

 

The rest of the house had dancing nutcrackers, skaters, gingerbread houses, twinkling lights, and more garnish than there was space for. Sansa loved that the place looked as it always did and she turned back to her mother, beaming. Catelyn was breaking out the tray of Christmas cookies for them, asking if they were hungry after the drive.

 

“No, we grabbed something on the way,” Arya replied, taking a handful of the cookies and putting them in her coat pockets. “Where’s everyone else?”

  
“Rickon’s rink,” Catelyn answered, sighing as Arya shoved a cookie into her mouth.

 

“Woods or lake?” Sansa asked and Catelyn gestured to the lake.

 

“We should unload the car first,” Sandor caught Arya’s arm when she went for the door. She scowled but didn’t protest.

 

“I’ll do that,” Catelyn waved her hands, “you go play hockey with your brothers. Sansa and Sandor too.”

 

“Sweet, thanks, bye,” Arya was out the door in a flash.

 

“I’ll be back up to help you in a minute,” Sansa promised her mom, kissing her cheek. Catelyn just smiled and shooed them both after Arya. Down the hill from the house on the ice was a cleared rink; an ATV with a plow on it sat on the shore nearby. Rickon’s rink was decently sized, but handy in the fact that snowbanks lined it all the way around except for a small entrance in an attempt to keep the puck somewhat in.

 

“SAAAAAAANDOOOOOOOOOR!” Rickon’s bellow echoed across the lake.

 

“Aw, I remember the days when I was greeted as the favorite,” Sansa teased, as all the boys turned and grinned at them.

 

“And my sisters!” Rickon hastily corrected himself, as Arya grabbed a spare stick from the pile and went chasing after the puck.

 

“Too little too late, Ricky,” Jon stated, skating over and stopping by them.

 

“Hi Jon,” Sansa gave him a big hug then turned to Sandor.

 

“And you must be the boyfriend, the notorious Sandor Clegane,” Jon remarked, giving him a once over. Sandor chuckled.

 

“What gave it away?”

 

“The height,” Jon said after a moment and Sansa couldn’t help but snort.

 

“Nice to finally meet the last of you Starks,” Sandor shook Jon’s hand with a genuine smile and Robb came to a stop, laughing.

 

“No, you still have Theon and only god can help you there. You gonna play or what then?”

 

“Yeah, let me get my skates,” Sandor obliged and they all cheered.

 

“I’ll go get them,” Sansa kissed his cheek, “I should help my mom with everything anyways.”

 

“Thank you,” Sandor gave her butt a swat as she left and she heard Jon mutter to Robb,

 

“Well that’s going to take some time getting use to.”

 

Sansa helped her mother unload the Jeep and get things ready for supper. The more traditional meal for tomorrow afternoon was waiting in the fridge, but tonight still called for an odd spread of favorites. Robb loved his cheesy potatoes, and Sansa requested Lindt chocolates for dessert. Arya got her favorite wild rice and Bran his apple crisp. Rickon had tater tot hotdish, and pickle roll ups for Ned.

 

Sansa had given Sandor a rundown of the evening events; hockey was played until dusk, then they came in for showers and supper. Catelyn served them, they ate, helped clean up, and then were allowed to open gifts from aunts and uncles, as well as grandparents.

 

“They only ever send us money anyways,” Arya hissed to Sandor as they sat in the living room with their cards.

 

“Lysa doesn’t even bother anymore,” Sansa whispered, as Talisa opened the tie-dye onesie Osha had sent for Alek.

 

“But god forbid Cat and dad not get anything for her kid,” Jon muttered from behind them. Catelyn glanced their way and they all made a big show of pretending to be tucking their money into their wallets, or intently reading the short card from their grandparents.

 

After presents came midnight mass; the house briefly erupted into intense chaos as they all tried to get ready at once. Talisa and Robb had a quiet but furious disagreement over if Alek was going to church. It ended when Robb reminded her that her parents’ flight was delayed and that they had nothing else to wait for. Sansa felt that though he won the argument, it might have been in his marriage’s best interest that he hadn’t.

 

Finally they were squeezing into cars, the drivers and nursing mother glaring at the others passed around a thermos of coffee and rum whenever Catelyn couldn’t see it. Sansa intercepted it when Jon tried to pass it to Rickon, grinning. She punched Jon in the arm and slid it to Arya, then patted Sandor’s knee and smoothed out the cashmere dress she’d chosen. Sandor looked handsome in his black slacks and the deep red sweater he’d let her pick. It was his one concession to the holiday spirit.

 

“Catholics are nuts for this midnight thing,” he yawned, taking the thermos when it made its way to him.

 

“Yeah, as kids it was exciting to stay up so late, now it’s just nonsense,” Arya grumbled, checking her phone.

 

“Does he do anything for Christmas?” Sansa asked nicely and Arya glanced towards the front seat, where Ned and Catelyn were trying to find a good Christmas music station.

 

“He says he likes it alone,” she muttered and Sansa frowned.

 

“No one likes Christmas alone.”

 

“What, and bring him to this?” Arya gestured at the car.

 

“I don’t get an out,” Sandor complained and Sansa elbowed his ribs.

 

The church was packed when they entered and Catelyn only just managed to snag them a pew that would fit all of them. As it was, Sansa was squeezed between Bran and Sandor. Talisa sat on the end, Alek in his car seat on the floor in front of her. Ever so occasionally, Sansa saw a bit of strain on her face.

 

“Do you know how to do this?” Bran asked Sandor, who chuckled.

 

“The last time I was in a church, I was trying to see if all the old men wore hats like the Pope. Safe to say I don’t.”

 

“Follow my lead,” Sansa hissed, then rose as the music swelled.

 

Sansa didn’t enjoy church much anymore. When she was little she loved the pageantry of it all, the fact that she got to dress up and go somewhere. She loved the stain glass windows, the gold idols, the hymnal with silver foil. She’d given so much of her young girlhood to the church and it hadn’t given her anything but trouble back. She was beginning, however, to see why her father went to church with their mother.

 

It was about being together, as a family. Sandor’s strong arm was resting on the back of the pew where she could lean her head against it. She and Bran started guessing how many blessings the priest would give when Catelyn saw what they were doing and swatted them with her program. She played footsie with Sandor, watching Jon and Arya try to thumb war between the songs. It was her family, smushed into one tiny space unable to escape for an hour and it was something special.

 

Alek did well, only fussing once during the homily. Talisa left with him and Catelyn followed, but they both returned shortly thereafter. Then, as the service concluded and the lights went down for them to sing Silent Night, Sansa reached down and took Sandor’s hand. There was a feeling of home, here in this moment. She knew, because she felt it every time she was in his arms.

 

Leaving church after the mass took twice as long as it usually did. Everyone wanted to pass along holiday tidings and remark over the new baby. Robb finally had to cut everyone off directly and hustle Talisa to the car. Bran and Jon managed to sneak away with them, but the rest of them were forced to wait until Ned and Catelyn had said their goodbyes and finally departed.

 

“No one wake me up before 10 tomorrow,” Rickon announced, once they were on their way home.

 

“Oh, how the tables turn,” Sansa remarked with glee, “considering I still remember that 5 am wake up call a few years ago.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m a teenager now,” Rickon protested.

 

“He needs his sleep,” mocked Sandor.

 

“Absolutely not, I will be getting up at my normal time and bringing everyone with me,” Sansa declared.

 

“I will murder you.”

 

“Arya! Don’t say that to your sister.”

 

“Mom, I didn’t mean it obviously.”

 

“So what do we do in the morning if not church?” Sandor asked her quietly.

  
“Gifts, mostly. Breakfast. Lunch. Hockey,” she listed off quickly and he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Why? Overwhelmed?”

 

“No, I’m alright,” he promised with a smile and a kiss to her temple.

 

“Alright, everyone to bed, we have an early morning tomorrow,” Catelyn commanded when they arrived home, tossing coats every which way.

 

“No we won’t,” Rickon protested and Jon shushed him by putting him in a headlock and wrestling him to the ground. Catelyn just walked past them, going to make sure the finishing touches were on the tree.

 

“I’d worry, except I know we’re going to be the first ones up,” Sandor remarked and Sansa kissed his cheek, pulling him downstairs.

 

“C’mon, I want cuddles.”

 

The two of them got ready and crawled into bed together. Sansa immediately curled into Sandor’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back. Sansa closed her eyes and listened to the thumping of his heartbeat, nearly lulled into sleep.

 

“I haven’t had this in a long time, you know,” he rumbled and Sansa paused, trying to keep herself awake.

 

“What, cuddles? I was just over after the holiday party.”

 

“I meant Christmas with a family,” he corrected quietly.

 

“Oh,” Sansa pressed her head hard into his sternum. “I hope you know you’re always welcome with my family.”

 

“I do know little bird,” he kissed her hair as she fell asleep.

 

Christmas morning came with two fresh inches of snow and an overeager Rickon who was up despite all his declarations that he wouldn’t be. He went from room to room, waking them all. He wisely avoided waking Robb or Talisa, and instead settled for dragging Arya bodily from her room until they were all gathered and went upstairs to open their gifts.

 

In the living room, Catelyn had laid things out as always. Each child had a section of the floor, with their stockings and presents piled high. Ned was at the coffee maker, distributing mugs. Sansa kissed his cheek and wished him a Merry Christmas as she grabbed one for Sandor. Her boyfriend was still standing at the top of the stairs, blinking and trying to take everything in.

 

“Merry Christmas,” she gave his the coffee with a smile, “your pile is by mine.”

 

“I got gifts?” he looked, bewildered. His pile was certainly the smallest, but it still contained several of varying sizes.

 

“It’s Christmas,” she said by way of explanation and heard him mutter something about the insanity of her family as they went to sit down.

 

“I’ll open Alek’s,” Robb stated unnecessarily as Talisa settled Alek in his Moses basket between herself and Jon. Jon glanced at the baby curiously.

 

“Wait, does that mean I’m not the baby anymore?” Rickon looked up from sorting his gifts in alarm and they all laughed.

 

“Yes, he’s the baby now,” Catelyn said with a smile and Rickon glared at his nephew. “But stockings first!”

 

Their stockings were always filled with the small but necessary things for them. Sansa received some new tights and leotards for practice, balm for her persistent blisters on her feet, nail polish, a new phone case, and more. Sandor was surprised to find that his contained his favorite brand of beard oil and a new travel grooming kit, as well as nice socks, good leather gloves, andfancy chocolates.

 

“This wasn’t necessary,” he thanked Ned and Catelyn, who was beaming ear to ear.

 

“Wait till you see what’s in the box,” Ned stated and Sandor gave Sansa a slightly worried look.

 

Each kid got to take their time opening their gifts, throwing wrapping paper around in a delighted frenzy. They ranged from sweet and personal from Sansa, to gag gifts from Arya, to expensive surprises from their parents. Sansa got the new Hunter boots she’d been wanting, as well as a stack of clothes nearly as tall as she was. Arya got plane tickets to visit Jon; Sansa wondered if there was two there. Rickon got his new stick and skates, with Catelyn threatening to cut him off if he broke his new stick this season. Sandor received new clothes as well, a nice tie, and a rather costly bottle of bourbon from Ned. Astounded, Sandor promised that they’d all share a glass at lunch.

 

When they’d finally cleared the mess away and Catelyn stopped taking pictures of Alek in front of the Christmas tree, breakfast was served. It was a light affair, considering the large lunch Catelyn always made. Once the dishes were put away and done, Sansa pulled Sandor into the study with the rest of her siblings. He went, only slightly bewildered. Catelyn shut them all in, folding her arms in front of the door.

 

“Dad hides the pickle,” Bran explained, finally taking pity upon Sandor’s confusion.

 

“Will someone explain the pickle?” Sandor gave them all an exasperated look.

 

“Ok, so mom’s mom had this glass pickle ornament,” Robb stated, rubbing his tired eyes. “When we still celebrated Christmas with them, she’d hide the pickle somewhere in the tree. Then we’d all look for it. Winner got a hundred bucks.”

 

“No shit?” Sandor looked intrigued.

 

“Yeah, so now we has the ornament and dad hides it and then we get to search for it,” Sansa confirmed and Sandor glanced at her.

 

“Winner still gets a hundred bucks?”

 

“And bragging rights,” Bran corrected.

 

“Ready!” Ned called and when Catelyn opened the door to the study, they all spilled out and sprinted for the tree. Rickon stuck the entire upper half of his body into the branches, making the tree tremble. Sansa took the backside of the tree, eagerly scanning it for the little hint of deep green amongst the branches.

 

“And it’s hard to see because it’s green,” Sandor realized as he hovered behind Sansa. Arya was pawing through the branches while Jon and Robb fought over who was checking the top of the tree.

  
“I need it for diapers!” Robb cried and every Stark sibling yelled various statements of disbelief.

 

“Not here, not here,” Sansa muttered, methodically sweeping every section of the tree before moving a few inches and starting again. Sandor, ever the rookie, was just searching at random, occasionally moving other decorations aside to check behind them. Sansa was just moving to a new section when Jon gave a yell of triumph.

 

“Found it,” he cried, holding up the small glass ornament high.

 

“Don’t break it,” Sansa admonished as her younger siblings cursed and complained. Jon handed it off to Catelyn and went to Ned, smirking.

 

“Use it to buy a girlfriend,” Arya grumbled, picking needles out of her hair.

 

“Clever,” Jon tucked the money into his wallet, grinning. Sansa was just about to help her mother with the rest of cleaning up when Sandor caught her wrist and gently tugged her back behind the tree.

 

“What?” she glanced up at him curiously and he held up a small box with a tiny silver bow on it.

 

“I didn’t forget your present, little bird,” he revealed and she chuckled, taking the box from him.

 

“I figured you didn’t,” she said sweetly, “I know you just don’t love doing things with lots of attention on you.”

 

“Yeah, well,” he rubbed the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. Smiling, Sansa pulled the box off and opened up the box, gasping when she saw what was inside.

 

“Holy…. Sandor,” she looked up at him, heart skipping a beat.

 

Inside the box was the same tiny wire bird she’d spotted on their first date in the coffee shop. It was exactly how she remembered it; wings in flight, eyes of shining copper. Sansa carefully removed it from the box, holding it in the palm of her hand. She was just admiring it when she realized there was a note beneath it, still in the box. She held it up and this time tears did come to her eyes.

 

_I love you too, little bird._

 

“Like it?” he asked and she didn’t have any words for him, so she just gave him a kiss and tried to show him that this moment was perfect.

 

“Mom, can I have some of the lefse?” Rickon called.

 

“No!”

 

“Mom, do we have to have lutefisk?” Bran complained.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Let’s go play hockey,” Jon offered and there were cheers from all corners of the house. Sansa grinned up at Sandor, who gave her another kiss then glanced hopefully at the lake.

 

“Go,” she shooed him away, laughing.

 

“Merry Christmas,” with one last kiss, he disappeared out the door with her brothers in a flurry of snow and shouting. Sansa clutched her little bird and beamed, wondering the last time a Christmas had felt so magical.

 

* * *

 

 

knee hockey - i think i've explained this but yes the pucks are made of foam and you could hypothetically shoot them at a young kid without damage but i do not endorse that

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote a lot of my family traditions into this one (my greatgrandpa actually hand crafted my families' stockings!) and i hope you like it. 
> 
> also i know it's not truly minnesotan, but due to strong Scandinavian roots here - chapter is named for the best and worst of my heritage - incredibly gross fish (just look it up, i am NOT explaining it) and lefse, which is like a potato crepe??? with butter and brown sugar? (unless you are my sister, who puts more potatoes on it) ((again, hi beans!!!!))
> 
> enjoy!!!


	25. Mall of America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first and foremost i hope you all survived the polar vortex, today is the first day that it's been above freezing in a week so I am off to take my doggos to go run around a state park before they destroy another couch cushion. 
> 
> hopefully this chapter brings you light and joy

“Hello?” Sansa answered her sister’s FaceTime call while she was folding laundry, glancing quizzically at the phone. It was odd of Arya to call her, and odder still that it was before 10 in the morning.

 

“Hey,” Arya was rubbing her eyes, her short, dark hair sticking up in every direction. Sansa didn’t recognize the wall behind her, so she assumed Arya was not in her dorm but at Gendry’s.

 

“What’s going on?” Sansa neatly put away the socks she’d finished and then went to her workout clothes.

 

“I was just calling to see what’s up,” Arya muttered and Sansa looked back over her shoulder in surprise. That was entirely unlike Arya.

 

“Nothing,” she said carefully, turning back to her dresser so that Arya couldn’t see the bewilderment on her face. “I’m just enjoying not having classes and clubs and stuff.”

 

“How’s dance?” Arya asked and Sansa paused, all her suspicions raised now.

 

“Fine,” she slowly turned back around to the phone, titling her head. “Why?”

 

“Am I not allowed to ask about it?” Arya turned defensive.

 

“As a rule, you usually don’t, no,” Sansa squinted at her sister, “are you okay? Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

 

“Sorry for caring,” Arya huffed, “I’ll just call Sandor then.”

 

“Good luck,” Sansa snorted, shaking out a wrinkled top before folding it neatly. “He’s at Penn State playing in a tournament. He doesn’t have his phone on him and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to talk to him.”

 

“Ooh, why?” Arya looked intrigued.

 

“The team is playing like shit according to him, so that always put him in a foul mood. And he hates North Dakota,” Sansa explained and Arya chuckled.

 

“Can’t exactly blame him there.”

 

“Yeah, so he’s not in the happiest of mindsets,” Sansa wasn’t worried. She was beginning to get the hang out picking out Sandor’s moods, in the ways that meant he was truly mad or just frustrated. She had realized a while ago that he had a whole angry mood just based on him being hungry, and that by carrying snacks he liked in her purse, she could reduce the mood most of the time.

 

“When does he get back?” asked Arya, not quite casual but striving for it. Sansa glanced at her calendar; the tournament wasn’t scheduled to last the whole week.

 

“The 30th, why?” she responded and Arya made a strange noise.

 

“I-wazz-supp-ass-guys-ze-blue ears-yeh,” Arya muttered as fast as she could and Sansa stared at the phone, blinking in bemusement.

 

“What?”

 

“You know,” Arya waved a hand, pretending that the pilling on the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders was the most important thing to focus on.

 

“Arya Norelle, what the hell are you saying?”Sansa glared into the screen.

 

“Hi Sansa,” Gendry popped into the frame, waving. Sansa, startled by his appearance, could only wave back. “And she’s saying that I’m forcing her into asking if you guys want to come to my house party on New Years so that we can finally meet. If you want, of course, and if you’re not doing anything else.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa paused, actually taking a moment to think it over. She and Sandor hadn’t discussed what they were doing for New Years yet, since they were still recovering from Christmas and the end of the semester. Sansa had a shortened practice that day and she knew it was the same for Sandor, and neither of them had anything the next morning.

 

“It’s just a small thing,” Gendry reassured her, “just a couple friends, hanging out, having a beer. Nothing crazy.”

 

“I mean, I would have to ask Sandor,” she said hastily, “but I can’t see why he wouldn’t want to!”

 

“Sweet,” Gendry grinned, turning back to Arya who still looked supremely uncomfortable, “I’ll have Arya give you my address!”

 

“Do you not want us to come?” Sansa questioned Arya the moment that Gendry left her view and she heard a door shut. Arya huffed, still avoiding looking at her.

 

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t not want you to come,” she said evasively and Sansa just waited, until she added, “it’s just the Gendry thing.”

 

“What about him? He seems awesome,” Sansa stated, “or is it that Sandor and I embarrass you?”

 

“You don’t embarrass me,” she grumbled, “it’s just that I really like this kid and if he doesn’t fit in with everyone, I think….”

 

“Oh, who cares if he fits in with us? You barely fit in with us and you’re a Stark,” Sansa tried to assure her but Arya only scowled.

 

“Thanks, San.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose.

 

“Just come if you want, okay?” Arya hung up and Sansa was left staring at the picture of her and Alek on Christmas morning before the screen went dark.

 

“Why the fuck can’t we ever seem to just communicate?” she asked her empty room, before unlocking her phone and pulling up the conversation between herself and Sandor to send a text.

 

_Call me tonight if you’re in the mood for it?_

 

Margaery was vacationing in Turks and Caicos with her family, so Sansa and Jeyne were free to converse at length and volume about their boys. Sansa told her all about the holiday party and Jeyne revealed that she’d met some of Beric’s family over the holiday and now understood why he was the way he was. They were just making buddha bowls for the week when Sansa’s phone rang, Sandor’s picture on the front.

 

“Got it,” Jeyne swiped to answer since Sansa was in the middle of slicing up an avocado.

 

“Hey honey,” Sansa called as Jeyne put it on speaker, “I thought you’d be calling later.”

 

“Yeah, well we didn’t shit the bed today so I decided the guys didn’t need that long of a talk,” he grumbled and Jeyne raised an eyebrow.

 

“Honey, have you have anything to eat in the last eight hours?” Sansa asked sweetly and there was a long pause.

 

“No.”

 

“Do that now please, then come back and talk to me,” she requested and heard him grumbling under his breath. There was a minute of rustling before he made an exaggerated noise of him chewing.

 

“I’m having a granola bar, is that good enough for you?” he mocked and Sansa arranged the avocado serenely.

 

“Give it a minute,” she promised, unbothered and there was silence for several long moments until Sandor huffed and grumbled something.

 

“What did you want to talk about then?” he asked brusquely but without the hard edge anymore. Jeyne looked at her, clearly stifling laughter.

 

“Gendry invited us to his place for New Years Eve,” Sansa revealed and Jeyne tilted her head, mouthing _‘who’s Gendry?’_ but Sansa waved her off.

 

“Yeah?” Sandor sounded interested, “do you want to go?”

 

“I’d like to,” Sansa mused, “but only if it’s not going to make it a whole thing. i don’t know, he seemed really excited about us going.”

 

“And her?” Sandor snorted.

 

“Less,” Sansa deadpanned and he laughed then. Jeyne looked between Sansa and the phone, clearly mystified.

 

“Do you have any plans?” asked Sandor and she looked to Jeyne.

 

“I’m going with Beric to some rave,” she revealed with a shrug.

 

“And I’m sure as hell not going to try to go to Union or wherever the other girls want to go,” Sansa said firmly.

 

“Oh, but we need to go to drag brunch after season is done,” Jeyne reminded her and Sansa made a mental note to look at tickets.

 

“Did you have plans?” Sansa asked him, knowing that he was likely going to be exhausted after all the traveling and games he’d had. She wouldn’t blame him one bit if he wanted to sleep for a week.

 

“Nothing that sounds any better than hanging out with a bunch of college students at a house party,” he said dryly and Sansa cringed.

 

“Look, I totally get it if you don’t want to, it would make perfect sense,” she insisted and he cut her off.

 

“And miss meeting him? No way in hell.”

 

“Okay,” Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, “I think it won’t be anything crazy, he seems really chill. And if it’s weird, we can leave. And we can always go home early!”

 

“But then you’d miss the midnight kiss,” Jeyne protested.

 

“Oh, I’d keep her up till midnight,” Sandor stated and Jeyne shrieked while Sansa admonished,

 

“Sandor!”

 

“Oh, little bird, I’m teasing,” he was smirking, she could see his face so clearly in this moment.

 

“Speaking of that, very cute Christmas present Sandor, I strongly approve,” Jeyne called and Sansa beamed. She had placed her little bird on one of the shelves in her room, right next to the picture frame of her and Alek. She loved seeing it when she woke up and went to sleep, the little reminder of Sandor.

 

“Thank you?”

 

“Okay, focus,” Sansa commanded, “if you want to go I will tell them that we’re coming. Not making a big deal out of it, have a couple beers, then go home. How’s that sound?”

 

“Fine, love,” Sandor yawned loudly and Sansa looked at the phone in fondness.

 

“Order room service. Eat before you pass out, alright?”

 

“Always chirping,” he muttered and she grinned.

 

“I love you.”

 

“You too, little bird,” he disconnected. The second the phone screen was black, Jeyne turned to her and instantly began screaming.

 

“WHAT WAS THAT? WAS THAT WHAT I THINK IT WAS? ARE YOU SAYING THAT? SANSA I CANNOT BELIEVE—”

 

If Jeyne had any questions about Gendry, they were quickly forgotten in favor of yelling at Sansa about the fact that she and Sandor were saying three important words to each other. Actually, Sansa corrected Jeyne’s assumption that Sandor was saying it back and instead showed her the note and told her she was content waiting for him to say it aloud whenever he was ready.

 

When she got ready for bed, she unlocked her phone and scrolled until she found her message thread with Arya, pulling it up to send off a short message.

 

_I would never want to make you uncomfortable._

 

**what**

 

_If it makes you uncomfortable having Sandor and I there, I don’t have to come. It’s no big deal, promise._

 

**I don’t care**

 

_But really, do you?_

 

**lol no**

 

_K well then I think Sandor and I are going to come_

 

**cool**

**don’t wear anything cute tho**

 

_What should I wear then?_

 

**do u have ripped jeans**

 

_Uh let me look_

_No._

 

**anything cool**

 

_Define cool please._

 

**like what I wear**

 

_I don’t have thrift store hipster clothes, no, I’m sorry._

 

**urgh fine**

 

**just wear leggings and a hoodie do u have a hoodie**

 

_I have a hoodie!_

 

**rejoice**

 

_What should Sandor wear?_

 

**_jeans and a t shirt idk_ **

 

_Okay, I’ll be sure to tell him. What should I bring? Snacks? Appetizers? Wine?_

 

**fuckin hell san u just show up**

 

_I don’t want to be rude!_

 

**k mom**

 

_Well rude. See if I get you anything for your birthday!_

 

The afternoon of the party, Sansa was undeniably nervous. She was sitting on her bed, staring at her closet, miffed. She’d gone through a hundred different outfit choices and deemed each one unworthy for different reasons. Her normal choice, cute jeans and a nice top with understated jewelry felt too posh. Then she’d swung the entirely opposite direction and went with joggers and a crew neck, but that felt sloppy. A cardigan felt too professional, any of her dance attire felt like she was bragging, and any other option felt so unlike her that she never even bothered to try it on. Clothes scattered her usually neat room like a tornado had engulfed them.

 

“Oh, fuck, wait,” she realized, digging out her phone from under the pile of shirts on the end of her bed. She knew exactly who she could call.

 

“Happy New Years Eve,” Jon greeted her with enthusiasm if not confusion over why she was calling.

 

“I need your help,” Sansa didn’t waste any time.

 

“Uh, sure,” Jon did his best to look composed, “what do you need?”

 

“What the fuck do I wear to Gendry’s tonight?” Sansa exhaled hard, glad the choice was off her shoulders for a minute. Jon stared at her then starting laughing.

 

“Really? That’s what you call me about?” he looked skeptical.

 

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Sansa admitted, “but this is Arya we’re talking about. My usual dress to impress code doesn’t exactly apply here.”

 

“Alright, you’re right there,” Jon admitted, groaning and getting up. Sansa was taken through the hall of Robb’s house, until she was put down in front of Robb and Talisa, both of whom seemed to be barely awake.

 

“Hi guys,” Sansa waved and they gave half hearted waves back, “where’s my baby?”

 

“Napping,” Talisa said tiredly, “for another minute probably then he will wake up and scream.”

 

“Sansa needs help picking out an outfit for her party tonight,” Jon explained and Robb didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

 

“Okay and why is that important?”

 

“It’s with Gendry and Arya,” Sansa mentioned and Robb lifted his head, now interested.

 

“She invited you?”

 

“She didn’t invite you?”

 

“Oh, no, she did,” Jon stated, “but considering these two aren’t even able to make it to the kitchen to get a sandwich, I’m gonna go with the fact that they’re not going to make it.”

 

“Are you?” Sansa demanded and Jon nodded. “Perfect, then you really can help me!”

 

“Sure, sure,” he waved a hand, “what are you thinking?”

 

“Uh….” Sansa scrambled off her bed and picked up her last outfit idea, which was an oversized tee-shirt from a vacation to Cozumel she didn’t even realize she still had and running tights.

 

“Oh no,” Talisa remarked and Sansa sighed, dropping them both.

 

“Help me.”

 

“Okay, what do you own that’s black and less than 50 bucks?” Jon demanded and Sansa stared blankly at him before going back to her closest and holding up a pair of plain black leggings.

 

“We can work with that,” Robb nodded approvingly.

 

“Where’s that shirt Jon got you for Christmas last year?” Talisa questioned and both Sansa’s brothers turned to her.

 

“She won’t still have it.”

 

“Yeah, I only got it for her because it was a two for one deal and I liked the one in my size.”

 

“Thanks Jon,” Sansa called, rifling through her closet.

 

“She’s too polite to throw something out before two years,” Talisa said confidently and Sansa sheepishly came out of the closet with the shirt on a hanger, tag still attached.

 

“It’s not polite,” she admitted and both boys looked impressed.

 

“Okay, then just wear that,” Jon nodded and Sansa glanced at the shirt. It was from Vans, and while she had a pair of the shoes for long boarding in the summer months, it wasn’t her normal style. Long sleeved and grey, with ‘VANS’ stamped large on the back and black stripes down the arms, it was simple enough.

 

“And what else?” she asked unsurely.

 

“Nothing,” Jon looked confused by the question.

 

“A scarf if you’re cold sweetie,” Talisa suggested then groaned when Alek began wailing off camera.

 

“Are you guys sure you don’t want me to come over there and watch him so you can get twenty uninterrupted minutes of sleep?” Sansa offered worriedly and Robb yawned again, shaking his head.

 

“Tali’s parents are here now but the whole time difference thing isn’t quite straightened out. We can deal. Have fun,” Robb waved and left.

 

“How is that?” Sansa looked to Jon, who pursed his mouth.

 

“There’s a lot of Russian flying around.”

 

“At last he’s going to be bilingual?” Sansa tried brightly and Jon chuckled.

 

“You’ll look fine tonight San. See ya there.”

 

“Sounds good, bye,” Sansa hung up then looked at her chosen outfit in apprehension.

 

When Sandor sent her the text that he was waiting outside, Sansa was still putting the finishing touches on her hair. She’d decided to wear it in a half up bun, secured with a scrunchie. They seemed to be coming back in. She still felt strange in the shirt from Jon, but it was buttery soft and quite comfy, so she liked that. And she’d forgotten how nice it was to wear leggings and not feel like she was underdressed. She pulled on her coat and boots, grabbing her mittens and overnight bag.

 

“Bye, be safe!” Jeyne yelled from her room where she was still getting ready for her rave.

 

“You too!” Sansa yelled back, locking the door behind her. She spotted Sandor’s big truck across the street and crossed, stopping to throw her bag in the backseat before clambering into the passenger seat beside him.

 

“Hi you,” he leaned across and kissed her head.

 

“Hi babes,” Sansa squeezed his knee then grabbed her seat belt and buckled up.

 

‘You know where we’re going?” he asked, pulling out of his spot and Sansa fumbled for her phone.

 

“Uh, yeah, Arya sent me it. Let me get it pulled up, hold on….”

 

Gendry’s apartment wasn’t that far from Arya’s dorm, to Sansa’s amusement. It was in an older building, but with secure doors and a well lit entry so Sansa gave it a plus there. Sandor was carrying their booze so Sansa punched in the code Arya had given her and held the door for him. Gendry lived on the third floor according to Arya, so they trooped up the creaking staircase, hesitating before the number 31, listening to the sound of voices and muffled music coming from behind it.

 

“What’s the exit strategy?” Sandor asked her lowly and Sansa glanced at the booze.

 

“I’ll chug the entire bottle of wine, then you take me home before I throw up.”

 

“Disturbing,” Sandor raised his hand to knock, “but effective so I’ll take it.”

 

“Hi,” the girl who opened the door was the size of a pixie, with bright green hair and contact lenses that made her eyes purple. “Come on in, who are you guys?”

 

“I, uh, Sansa,” the appearance of the girl had put Sansa off slightly, but she regained her smile quickly, “Sansa Stark. Arya’s sister.”

 

“Nan!” the girl yelled, over the music.

 

“Nan?” Sandor muttered and Sansa just shrugged. She had no idea what was going on, so she checked out the apartment. It wasn’t large by any means, but it likely wasn’t helping that at least twenty people were shoved in the small space, most of them either holding solo cups or a joint. The place was decorated with sparse furniture and the decor seemed to mostly consist of empty alcohol bottles, but for a young man’s apartment Sansa had seen far worse.

 

“Sansa!” Arya appeared from the knot of people, looking surprised. She was wearing a lacy bralette with a mesh shirt over the top and ripped black jeans; Sansa wanted to be a little scandalized but she had a feeling this was tame for her sister’s away from home style.

 

“Hi!” Sansa gave her an awkward hug.

 

“Here, I can take your coats, I’ll go lock them in Gendry’s room so no one takes them,” she held her arms out and Sansa shed her coat, then handed over Sandor’s.

 

“Thanks, Nan,” Sandor commented, smirking and Arya glared at him before turning to Sansa.

 

“You look…. That’s really cute,” she remarked, sounding surprised and Sansa smoothed down her shirt before she could help herself.

 

“It was from Jon,” she said needlessly and Arya raised an eyebrow, then disappeared.

 

“I’m going to drink now,” Sandor declared and Sansa nodded hastily, digging in the bag for her wine and clutching it like a life line. Before she could open it, however, a loud voice called,

 

“Sansa?”

 

She turned, looking for the source, but she didn’t have to search. A broad shouldered, shorter man cut a path through the people. Gendry was grinning as Arya trailed behind him, looking apprehensive.

 

“Hi!” Sansa said brightly. He was built like a wrestler, at least to her eyes. A bit on the stocky side, with a barrel chest and thick arms. A scruffy beard covered his jaw and chin, but his hair was buzzed short. He stopped before her and she wavered, unsure if she should go for the handshake or the hug. Thankfully, Gendry solved it for her. He gestured to the wine bottle and asked,

 

“Need help?”

 

“Oh, sure, thank you,” she handed it over and he helped remove the top before handing it back with a smile.

 

“Sandor Clegane,” he stuck his hand out for Gendry, who turned and shook it.

 

“The hockey coach,” he stated and Sandor gave a slightly uncomfortable nod. “I’m happy you guys made it.”

 

“Thanks for inviting us,” Sansa said earnestly and meant it.

 

“I’m excited to meet you guys,” Gendry led them to a quieter couch in the corner that seemed to be mostly vacant. Sansa squished herself as close to Sandor as she could as he dug for a beer.

 

“Me too, I’ve heard so much about you,” Sansa lied only slightly.

 

“Good or bad?” Gendry grinned up at Arya and to Sansa’s surprise, her little sister didn’t make a snarky comment or scowl, but instead rolled her eyes and interlocked her arm with Gendry’s.

 

“All bad,” Arya stated and Gendry laughed, stretching up to kiss her. Sansa watched, flabbergasted, as she let him. She felt Sandor next to her splutter on his beer.

 

“You guys need anything?” Gendry asked when he turned back to them, “glass, joint, food, whatever?”

 

“Uh, a glass, thank you,” Sansa replied and Gendry squeezed Arya’s waist and then set off, weaving between people. When he was out of ear shot, Sansa turned to Arya.

 

“So?” Arya looked nervous of all things and Sansa could only open and close her mouth several times before she nodded and took a drink directly from the bottle. It seemed the easiest way to deal with what was going on.

 

As they sat and chatted with Gendry, Sansa became more and more unnerved. It wasn’t that Gendry himself wasn’t great, because he was. He was funny and an intent listener. He asked Sansa about dance and her major, and asked Sandor about playing pro and now coaching. He told funny little stories about himself, never dominated the topic of conversation, and was the first to jump up when a glass was empty.

 

What was freaking her out so bad was the way Arya was with him. She was almost flirtatious. She smiled more often and actually let Gendry touch her without yelling at him. She seemed utterly relaxed and playfully bickering back and forth with him. It was absolutely unlike the wild, fierce, snarling Arya that she knew so well that when she and Gendry excused themselves to go say hi to someone who’d just walked in, Sansa immediately turned to Sandor.

 

“What the fuck?” he whispered instantly.

 

“I know!” Sansa hissed back, grateful to have someone who understood her so well but also too caught up with Arya to express that.

 

“She is like, nice around him,” Sandor looked as though his mind had been blown.

 

“I am as confused as you,” Sansa assured him and before they could talk any further on it, the door opened once again and Jon walked in, glancing around.

 

“Jon!” Arya went across the party to hug him; when she leaned back she gestured to where Sansa and Sandor sat, then went to go put his coat away.

 

“Hey guys, little weird to be at this kind of party, am I— uff!” he tried to greet them but Sansa impatiently yanked him down onto the couch.

 

“You have to watch her with him,” she instructed without preamble.

 

“It’s bizarre,” Sandor agreed, taking another drink of his beer.

 

“Nice to see you again,” Jon commented to him and Sandor raised his bottle but kept his eyes on Arya. She was at Gendry’s side, talking to the green haired girl and laughing over someone. “I think she looks normal guys.”

 

“Wait for it,” Sansa muttered and Jon was quiet, until Arya stretched up on her tippy toes and kissed Gendry’s ear before heading for the kitchen.

 

“That!” Sandor pointed before Sansa knocked down his finger.

 

“That?” Jon looked skeptical.

 

“She kissed him,” Sansa exclaimed in disbelief, not understanding how he didn’t see how huge a deal this was.

 

“I hate to break it to you guys, but she does kiss boys,” Jon stated and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

“But it’s Arya,” she proclaimed, “she hates everyone.”

 

“Eh, it’s not that different from what happened to Robb,” Jon dismissed, taking one of Sandor’s beers.

 

“What happened to Robb?” Sandor leaned forward.

 

“Pre-Talisa, he’d go out every night, flirt with girls, maybe hook up with them—”

 

“Jon, ew!”

 

“But the post-Talisa,” Jon continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “he only wanted to talk to her, or go out to the bars with her, or do whatever with her. Point is, we’re all somebody, until we fall in love. Then we’re someone else entirely, because we’re somebody’s.”

 

“Did I change?” Sansa asked unsurely and Jon nodded, drinking the beer.

 

“Sure.”

 

“How?”

 

“You break the rules now,” Jon took a drink of his beer as Sansa stared at him, unsure if she was surprised or pleased. “Oh, and you laugh more.”

 

“Well,” Sansa didn’t know what to say to that so she settled for taking Sandor’s hand; he lifted it up in a kiss.

 

“But can we all agree it’s a little weird being this old at this party, right?”

 

“Oh, yeah, no for sure.”

 

“They keep saying words and I don’t know what the fuck any of it means.”

 

Sansa enjoyed the party, she did. It was nice to be tucked off in a corner with Jon and Sandor. They watched the other partygoers and amused themselves by making up stories and things to accompany each person. Gendry and Arya both stopped by frequently, when they weren’t mingling with their other friends. But when Jon declared that he was going to the bars to meet up with some old friends, Sansa and Sandor jumped at the chance to make a clean exit as well. They said their goodbyes, told Gendry how nice it was to meet him, how they’d like to see him more, and then departed.

 

“Next time Arya invites me to a party, tell me not to go no matter how much I’ve missed her,” Jon grumbled on their way back down and Sansa laughed, bumping shoulders with him.

 

“No more going to weird house parties, even if they are hosting by our little sister’s cool new boyfriend who is actually allowed to hug her and stuff,” Sansa shook her head at the strangeness of it.

 

“You good to drive?” Jon checked with Sandor who nodded. “Alright, then there’s my Uber. Be safe, have a good new year!”

 

“You too,” Sansa called as he raised a hand goodbye, sliding into the waiting car.

 

“I like him,” Sandor declared as they went to his truck.

 

“Everyone likes Jon,” Sansa remarked, stepping around the pile of snow that had hardened into a rock-like formation.

 

“What do you want to do now?” Sandor asked, glancing at her and she shrugged, pulling her coat tighter. She was glad that Sandor had remote started the truck; she felt like she hadn’t been properly warm in weeks.

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Yes, little bird.”

 

“I want to go home, I want to have a big glass of wine, and I want to go into the new year screaming your name,” she snuck a look at him; he seemed thunderstruck.

 

“Good end to the year,” he said finally, slowly, “and better start to the new year.”

 

Sandor got her a glass of wine when they got back and Sansa got naked. He nearly spilled the wine tripping to get to her and Sansa laughed, threw her head back and properly laughed. Sandor wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead so that she could take a sip.

 

“I think Jon was right,” she whispered as Sandor began to kiss her neck.

 

“About?” Sandor’s hot breath tickled her, making every hair on her body rise.

 

“I laugh more with you.” It made her happy that even Jon could see she was happier now.

 

“Sansa Isabelle Stark,” Sandor took her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes, “I would love to keep making you laugh every day in the next year, and for a lot of years after that.”

 

“Yes please,” she squeaked and Sandor kissed her deeply, then took her straight to bed.

 

Sansa wasn’t sure on the time; it was so hard to judge when she was with Sandor. But if she had to guess, her bet was that the new year struck just as Sandor was pushing himself inside of her and that they rang it in with breathless kisses and nails raking down Sandor’s back. Sansa wasn’t angry that they missed it; if anything she preferred to always begin the year by being with Sandor.

 

They’d had time to figure each other out as lovers, which made it easier for them to know what satisfied the other. Sansa knew that Sandor liked it when she whispered how good he felt in her, how much pleasure he brought her. And she loved it when he took his time, slow and easy, taking his time to build up a release that felt that much sweeter. When they were done and cuddling amongst the sheets, watching the lights of the city from across the river, Sandor kissed between her shoulder blades.

 

“I liked the outfit you wore today.”

 

“You did?” Sansa resisted the urge to roll over and look at him.

 

“Yeah, it was nice. It was more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you. It’s nice to see that sometimes you don’t have to be the girl that your family expects.”

 

“I’m not that girl now,” she said wryly then yelped when Sandor tweaked her nipple gently.

 

“You know what I mean,” he laughed and she gingerly settled back into his arms, pulling the covers up to cover her chest.

 

“It was nice to wear something like that,” she said slowly, “and not have to do all the hair and makeup and stuff.”

 

“Whatever makes you feel like you, little bird,” he muttered, kissing her again and Sansa drifted off to sleep, thinking about what Jon had said. She was Sandor’s perhaps but he was her’s too and they were both better for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also the mall of america is a massive mall complex which houses a vans store (i know it's a stretch connecting it to this chapter but damnit if i had a minny fic and didn't include the thing you'd have to revoke my stateship.)
> 
> anyways i never knew that other people didn't go to a huge mall to do back to school shopping or where you go when you're bored on a tuesday. people go there for whole ass vacations. i once went there to buy a headband and that was it. all relative, ya know? 
> 
> reviews make me warm and fuzzy!


	26. St. Paul Cathedral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hi friends firstly please don't kill me for this chapter secondly have a great weekend and leave a review if you're able and thirdly if given the chance y'all should check out the St. Paul Cathedral it's amazing and i don't even like church also it's where they did Crashed Ice for several years and THAT is peak minny shit

For the next two weeks, Sansa didn’t see Sandor again, but neither did she anyone beyond her teammates. With under a month until Nationals, Mel’s attitude went from dictator to deranged. Her energy bordered on mania, and every waking moment Sansa wasn’t practicing, she was consoling the other girls and commiserating that they only had a month to go.

 

She could hardly even prepare for her own classes coming up and keep herself going. Sandor was almost as busy with games, as it seemed like at least once a week he was criss-crossing the country. It was exhausting trying to keep track of each other between conditioning, practices, games, and the traveling. Sansa wanted to see him, but she couldn’t make it to the end of the day without wanting to collapse.

 

She wasn’t the only one who was feeling the strain of the end of the season drawing nearer. Most of the young rookies were cracking under the pressure. Even tough, headstrong Lyanna broke down and cried once after a rough practice. Some of the older girls were handling it poorly as well; Ygritte stormed out of practice once and didn’t come back until the next day. Sansa just focused on trying to make sure no one quit or got sick. She was a walking pharmacy.

 

The one bright spot was Alek’s baptism, midway through the month. Catelyn had allowed Robb and Talisa to plan a later celebration but had made up for that by having it at the St. Paul Cathedral, the oldest and grandest church in the Twin Cities. Sansa was mostly removed from preparations since she had dance, but she’d caught glimpses of it talking to her family and wondered if she maybe wasn’t better off letting herself come down with the flu and trying to get out of it.

 

“And you remember that you’re meeting me here tomorrow morning?” Sansa asked Sandor over the phone as she laid out her outfit choice for the baptism; her favorite corduroy a-line skirt, tight black top and wool cardigan, with her new tall boots.

 

“Yes,” he grunted.

 

“And you know what to wear?”

 

“Yes, Sansa.”

 

“Okay, I’m just checking because you know how mom gets, this is church and her first baptism since Rickon’s so she’ll probably be a little on edge,” she warned.

 

“Can’t imagine what that’d be like,” he grumbled and Sansa stopped sorting out her makeup brushes to look at the phone.

 

“What’s the mean?” she questioned, affronted.

 

“Nothing,” Sandor dragged a hand over his face, “I’ll be there tomorrow. 8 am sharp.”

 

“Okay, because mass is at 8:30, so we have to get there early,” she couldn’t help reminding him one last time and Sandor grumbled something she couldn’t hear but she didn’t push it. Everyone was exhausted anyways. They just needed to get through January and it would all be better.

 

“Yeah, Sansa, I know.”

 

“Alright,” she dropped the topic, setting out the makeup she needed for the next day.

 

“I should get to bed,” Sandor mumbled and Sansa glanced back at the phone.

 

“Are you sleeping any better?” she asked softly.

 

“Some nights,” he was being evasive but Sansa hadn’t slept over at his place for weeks now so she had no idea if he was being honest or lying. She could only hope that things were alright and for them to get get through.

 

“Okay, well I hope you get some sleep,” she walked back over to the phone, “I can’t wait to see you.”

 

“You too little bird,” he said heavily and she kissed her fingertips then pressed them to the screen.

 

“Love you.”

 

“You too,” Sandor gave her a wane smile and hung up. Sansa changed into her pajamas, trying not to be bothered. The winter was always rough, for everyone. It would all be better soon.

 

She slept fitfully; she kept dreaming that she’d slept through her alarms and showed up at the church in her Uggs and a robe. Ned blocked the door and said she didn’t belong, and Sandor watched without saying anything to her. Every time she woke up in a panic and checked the time, it was usually only an hour or so after the last time she’d woken up. So the night went until her alarm finally went off and she got up to get ready, tired.

 

She brewed coffee while she did her makeup, yawning several times until her eyes watered. It was hard to do her mascara and not stab herself in the eye, but somehow she got through it. She left her curling iron on to heat up and went to get dressed, leaving her tights and boots for last. She grabbed yogurt and granola to eat, then clambered up into the bathroom sink to do her hair.

 

The few times her phone buzzed, she glanced at it to see that it was just her mother, checking to make sure that everyone was actually up and preparing. Sansa could only imagine Robb and Talisa’s stress level right now so she said a silent prayer for them. When her phone dinged with the text that Sandor was there, she threw on her lipstick and rushed out the door.

 

"Very nice, little bird," Sandor remarked tiredly when Sansa climbed into the truck. 

 

"Did you sleep last night?" she asked him in concern, buckling in. He shook his head, putting the truck in gear and pulling away from the curb. 

 

"Maybe an hour total," he yawned and Sansa gave him a sympathetic pat on the knee. 

 

"I slept like shit too. I kept thinking I was going to miss this." 

 

"Oh, what a shame," he grumbled and Sansa shot him a look but stayed quiet. They were both tired and stressed. It was easier to let it go than push it. 

 

On the drive to the church, she touched up her makeup and hair, keeping an eye on the clock and the group message. From what she could tell, Rickon had forgotten his nice dress shoes at the arena and so Robb was tasked with bringing him a spare pair. Sansa wondered how well that was going to go over but stayed quiet. When she and Sandor finally parked in the shadow of the massive church, she silenced her phone and shoved it in her purse. 

 

"Ready?" she asked him and Sandor just sighed heavily. The steps to the church were icy and Sandor helped her. He paused in the grand entry, looking around before Sansa beckoned him into the sanctuary, impatient. 

 

Her family was clustered near the front of the church. Sansa hurried towards them, able to see even from a distance that Rickon was wearing Vans, not dress shoes, and that Arya was missing. Catelyn was talking to Robb in a low tone, a semi-pleasant smile on her face even as she demanded to know how he could've forgotten the shoes. 

 

"Forgive me, mother," Robb's teeth were clearly gritted, "I was too busy trying to remember to grab my son." 

 

"Mom, it's fine," Sansa said, the instant she was within earshot. "Rickon can stand in the back, his shoes are black and no one will notice. I'll call Arya and see where she is. Where's Talisa and Alek and her parents?" 

 

"She's changing his diaper before the service," Bran answered and Sansa nodded, rubbing her mother's shoulders. 

 

"Thank you," Catelyn took a deep breath.

 

"Get everyone seated and ready," Sansa encouraged her quietly, "I'm calling Arya."

 

"I don't think you're gonna need to, holy shit," Robb muttered and Sansa turned to look at the entrance where they were all staring. Striding up the aisle in her coat and combat boots was Arya, disgruntled and shaking snow from her hair. Behind her, in a dark coat and vaguely uncomfortable was Gendry. Sansa gasped. 

 

"Hi guys," Arya stopped in front of them, arms already crossed defensively. Her siblings and parents just gaped at her, until Talisa came up, holding a sleeping Alek in her arms and casually said, 

 

"Hello, Gendry." 

 

"Hi Talisa," he responded and that snapped everyone back to life. Jon was the second person to move; he walked forward and shook Gendry's hand, moving to stand behind Arya. It was a clear, nonverbal show of his support. 

 

"We should sit down," Sansa reminded everyone, noticing how quickly the church was filling up. They filed into the front rows, as other family members arrived. Lysa swept in nearly at the last moment, practically dragging Robin with her. The Reed's, her father's longtime friend and business partner, waved to them from the other side of the church. If Meera or Jojen were shocked to see Gendry, they hid it well.

 

Sansa's grandparents had decided not to come up from Florida for the baptism, claiming sore joints and bad weather. Sansa personally envied Talisa's parents who sat the end of the pew; they alone were oblivious to the clear tension radiating off of Catelyn and Arya. Sansa, seated between Talisa and Sandor, did her best to give Arya and Gendry an encouraging smile but neither seemed to look her way. 

 

The mass began as normal and Sansa was thankful that Alek didn't fuss. She got to hold him, smiling down at his sleeping face and gently running her fingers over the intricate gown he wore. Catelyn had been baptized in the same gown so many years before, as had all the Stark children since. It was starting to yellow slightly with age and was missing a few beads, but it was still beautiful. 

 

When Robb and Talisa went to the priest, Sansa handed off Alek and went to join them. She and Jon had been chosen as godparents, even though neither of them were involved enough in the church to really warrant it. She felt a twinge of guilt as she agreed to lead Alek in his faith, but promised herself that she would be there to support her nephew in whatever he chose to believe, not just Catholicism. 

 

Alek didn't even cry when the water was dripped over his head. Sansa noted with slight amusement that both grandmothers were quietly crying at the sight, while Rickon and Bran were utterly preoccupied with what she was sure was a Fortnite stream. Sandor kept yawning, while Lysa's mouth was pursed. 

 

Sansa's feet were just starting to hurt when they were finally allowed to go back to the pew. She slid in beside Sandor, noticing that once Talisa was seated beside her, she let out a huge exhale. She patted Talisa's knee and smiled, imagining how glad she must be to have it all over. 

 

The rest of church was dull, except for the fact that Sansa could feel the anger and disbelief coming from Catelyn in waves. She felt a little bad for her mother that the day had been tarnished, but mostly she was shocked that Arya had chosen today of all days to introduce Gendry to their family. She doubted Robb and Talisa was angry about it; they were likely glad that the pressure had shifted off of them in such a dramatic fashion. 

 

When the service was done, Sansa snuck out the side with her mother to go make sure the food and drinks were ready for the party downstairs. Catelyn had insisted on the traditional baptism party and had strong-armed Robb and Talisa into it as well. They weren't ten steps from the crowd when Catelyn turned and hissed,

 

“Did you know?”

 

“That she was bringing him? No,” Sansa said honestly.

 

“Who is him?” Catelyn demanded and Sansa wavered between flat out lying and just halfway lying. She settled for the latter.

 

“He is a very close friend of Arya’s.”

 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know what he is,” Catelyn snapped and Sansa stared levelly at her mother.

 

“Do you remember the talk we had? Being more inclusive, not so fast to judge, letting us do what makes us happy?” she pointed out and Catelyn took a deep breath.

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

“Well, Gendry is honestly good for her. Maybe you’ll see that if you look hard enough,” she encouraged and Catelyn pressed her slim fingers to her temple before nodding.

 

“Alright, but so help me god if he does anything to upset me today, I will lose my mind.”

 

“Aw, mom,” Sansa patted her back, “good of you to think you still had that.”

 

“Sansa!”

 

The party went as smoothly as Sansa or Catelyn could have dreamed. Alek slept through the entire thing, even as he was passed from arms to arms to arms. Talisa spent half her time anxiously translating for her parents and hovering around Alek worriedly. Sansa managed to get her to eat a cinnamon roll and have some orange juice. The men occupied one corner, avoiding the cooing mass of women.

 

Gendry was there, between Jon and Sandor. It warmed Sansa’s heart to see that Sandor was doing his best to include Gendry and make him look a little more comfortable. She was also impressed that Sandor was handling the onslaught of attention as well as he was. Occasionally he would glance at her and she’d cock her head, their unspoken way of asking if the other was alright. He’d nod slightly and then they would go back to their respective duties.

 

The party was just winding down when Sansa finally got a chance to hold her godson. He was fussing slightly, so Sansa grabbed the diaper bag and headed for the bathroom, gently hushing him as she went. His diaper was wet so she changed him, whispering little promises to him as she did. It was fast becoming her favorite thing, the quiet moments when they were alone.

 

“And when you get big, then we can go to New York. At Christmas time,” she whispered, “and watch the ballet. I know Robb is going to put you in hockey but we’re gonna love ballet together, right?”

 

“What are you teaching the kid?” Sandor asked her, standing outside the bathroom. Sansa smiled up at him, adjusting Alek slightly in her arms.

 

“Chaos and destruction, what else?”

 

“He’ll learn that fine in your family,” Sandor chuckled, looking down at the baby in her arms.

 

“Want to hold him?” Sansa offered and Sandor took a step back automatically. “What, are you scared of babies too?”

 

“They’re small,” he remarked, eyeing her warily.

 

"They're babies, they're not scary," Sansa stepped towards him, Alek waving a chubby fist. Sandor eyed her like she was holding a live bomb. 

 

"They're too small, especially for a big fucker like me," he declared and Sansa rolled her eyes, glancing down at Alek. He had the same big blue eyes as Robb and herself, but dark hair like Talisa. He was a very average baby in terms of size, but Sansa had to admit that made him roughly the size of Sandor's bicep. 

 

"Do you want to try to hold him?" she offered slowly. 

 

"No," he flatly refused and Sansa wasn't sure why, but a bubble of annoyance arose within her. 

 

"What are you going to do when you have kids?" she questioned, trying to come off as teasing rather than accusing. 

 

"Who said I'm having kids?" Sandor declared and Sansa stared at him, agape, when suddenly the noise of raised voices from the party reached them. Sansa looked past him towards the opening, staining to hear. When she heard her father's sharp tone added to the din, she decided it was worth investigating and walked back, Sandor trailing her. 

 

In the short time she'd been gone, it seemed that the dramatics of the party had increased tenfold. After a second, she saw why. In the middle of the room stood Baelish and Lysa, facing off against her mother and father. Sansa hastened to Talisa's side, wondering when the hell he'd gotten there and what was going on. 

 

"It was going too smoothly," Talisa said mournfully, without taking her eyes off Catelyn and Baelish. "Your mother and my mother got along, my father wasn't drinking, Alek wasn't screaming. It was too good to be true." 

 

"What the hell is going on?" Sandor demanded of Jon. 

 

"The creep showed up and apparently Cat told him to leave," Jon explained and Sansa glanced back at him, astonished. 

 

"She what?" 

 

“Yeah,” Talisa nodded solemnly. Her parents were looking between their daughter and Catelyn, but Talisa wasn’t translating.

 

“I think it would be best if you went,” Catelyn was saying to Petyr, who looked downright flabbergasted. Sansa couldn’t blame him; though Catelyn was being what seemed like absolutely polite, this was an unheard of occurrence.

 

“I simply came to congratulate Robb on the birth of his son,” Petyr responded, almost so low that Sansa couldn’t hear. Her grip on Alek tightened protectively; she didn’t want Petyr coming anywhere near him. She needn’t have worried, for two reasons. The first was that Sandor moved to stand behind her, a solid, steady protector in his own right. And the second was that Catelyn was shaking her head, mouth clamped shut.

 

“I think my wife would like you to go,” Ned said firmly, standing behind Catelyn with his hands on her shoulders. Sansa was slightly amused to note it was the exact same thing Sandor was doing to her currently.

 

“Cat, if I have done something to upset you,” Petyr spread his arms wide as though he was going to embrace her, but Catelyn didn’t budge.

 

“What has gotten into you?” Lysa sounded like she was bordering on hysterical.

 

“I no longer feel comfortable having Petyr around my family,” Catelyn responded, trying her best to keep things quiet. As it was, anyone that was left in the party was blatantly staring and listening. Sansa knew it was her gossip adverse mother’s worst nightmare, and that made her even more appreciative that Catelyn was doing it all.

 

“Cat, what have I done?” Petyr questioned, as Lysa chorused with,

 

“What has he done?”

 

“I—“ Catelyn’s eyes flickered to Sansa for no more than a moment but it was long enough that Petyr saw. When he glanced her way and noticed the large presence of Sandor behind her, his lips curled into a sneer.

 

“Catelyn,” his voice was full of fake politeness that sounded more like malice to Sansa than anything, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 

“You’re not owed an explanation,” Catelyn said sharply. “Feel free to live your gift or take it with you, but I would like you to leave. Please don’t make a scene.”

 

“A scene?” a sneer crossed his face.

 

“Lysa, you too,” Catelyn said firmly and Lysa gasped.

 

“How could you, I—“

 

“Have you forgotten all that I’ve done for you and your family?” Petyr’s tone carried something dangerous in it, something that Sansa had never heard before. It made the hair on the back of her neck rise and she stepped back into Sandor’s firm chest just so that she knew he really was there.

 

“I appreciate that,” Catelyn’s voice was shaking, “but I am afraid that I can’t put the comfort of my children second to anything.”

 

“Was that what you were doing, back then? The way I recall it, the things I did were for these exact children we’re speaking of.”

 

“Enough,” Ned cut across everything, making Talisa jump next to her. “Baelish, my wife has asked you to leave. See to it that you do. Lysa, go with him if you will.”

 

“You are a disgrace,” Lysa shrieked at Catelyn, “a disgrace! What would father say?”

 

“I’ll go to Florida and ask him,” Catelyn snapped back before turning and departing for the kitchen. Lysa took Petyr’s arm and wheeled him around, but not before he’d had a chance to throw Sandor a filthy look. In the following silence, the guests tried to go back to their punch and brunch, but the tones were subdued.

 

“What the hell was he talking about?” Sansa turned to Jon, right away. “That thing about what mom owed him, what was that?”

 

“I don’t know and I doubt she’ll tell us,” Jon looked just as worried as she felt.

 

“I know,” Robb sounded miserably as he came up to him and took Alek from Sansa’s arms.

 

“What?” Talisa looked at him, shocked. It was clear that the two of them had no secrets, except for this one apparently.

 

“You guys know I wasn’t a great student in high school,” Robb was looking down at Alek’s face, his own a mixture of shame and anger.

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sansa thought of all the dumb things Robb had done. He was smart, it wasn’t that he wasn’t. It was that he was bored and more interested in girls and sports.

 

“Yeah, well, when I wanted to play for the U, they started asking questions about my GPA and ACT score, wondering if I would a good academic fit,” he scowled then.

 

“Oh, fuck Robb,” Sansa knew what he was going to say before it came out.

 

“He vouched for me,” Robb revealed and Sansa rolled her eyes skyward. “That was what I really needed back then, having him on my side. I promised I’d do better and I did!”

 

“That’s why mom thinks that she owes him,” Sansa gaped at her older brother, “that’s why he gets to worm himself into everything! Because he thinks he’s the reason you got to play for the U!”

 

“Well that and Lysa is in love with him,” Robb tried to shift the blame and Sansa fumed, wishing he wasn’t holding her nephew so that she could smack him.

 

“You subjected me to five years of gross comments and leering looks so that you could play for the Gophers?” her hands were balling into fists even though Sandor’s hands were resting on her shoulders. “We’re not even that good!”

 

“Hey,” he looked at her, wounded.

 

“You are a moron,” she stated, rubbing her temples, “and I hate you a lot right now.”

 

“I didn’t know he was going to be an ass to you,” Robb said defensively.

 

“Yes, but if you had stopped chasing everything in a skirt and actually bothered to show up for your tests, maybe I wouldn’t have had to deal with that asshole. I—“ she left him then, left his sad, shamed face and Talisa’s confusion and the utter bewilderment of Talisa’s non English speaking parents. She went after her mother, ignoring the fact that both her father and Arya tried to catch her.

 

“Sansa!” her mother was drying tears over the leftover cake; it was clear she was tried to look busy cleaning things up to hide her emotions. Sansa didn’t say a word, she just crossed the kitchen and wrapped Catelyn in a tight hug.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered into her mother’s perfectly coifed updo. After a second, Catelyn’s arms went around her ribs.

 

“I am sorry,” Catelyn whispered back.

 

“It’s not your fault Robb is an idiot,” Sansa muttered and Catelyn gave a water chuckle.

 

“Don’t call your brother an idiot.”

 

“Well, he is,” Sansa leaned back and inspected her mother’s face. Catelyn looked years younger than she had recently and Sansa found herself smiling.

 

“He was just a misguided kid. And your father wanted so badly for him to go to the U and be a Gopher and I wanted him close to us and it just seemed necessary,” she tried to explain and Sansa found herself nodding along.

 

“I know mom, I know. You always want us to be happy. That’s all you’re ever trying to do.”

 

“You’re an angel,” Catelyn touched her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t send him away earlier.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sansa said and found she meant it. Her anger at her mother had more or less disappeared now that she knew Catelyn’s motivations. Some of that anger had transferred to Robb, of course, but it was lessened.

 

“I guess your little brothers will have to just make it into their chosen schools on their own merits,” Catelyn tried to joke and Sansa did actually laugh at that, pulling her mom in for another hug.

 

“Mom, dad gives so much money to this school it’s only a matter of time before he gets a building named in his honor. And Bran’s a certified genius. Rickon’s going to be the next McDavid. They’re going to be just fine.”

 

“You’re right,” Catelyn dabbed at her eyes. “I should go back out there and face everyone. God, how many people do you think saw that?”

 

“Well, at least two of them don’t speak English,” Sansa reminded her helpfully and Catelyn gave another laugh at that. Sansa left her mother when Ned came into the kitchen. He gave her a kiss on the head when she went by but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

 

Sansa found her siblings sitting at a table together, as Robb repeated the revelation. Arya was the one who looked the most pissed off, while Gendry was sitting beside her, bewildered. Sandor was sitting across from Robb, arms folded. Sansa didn’t get the impression that he was angry, but it also didn’t seem that he was very pleased either. She made a mental note to be sure to check in with him later, but for now there were more pressing matters at hand.

 

“Sorry this is what you came into,” Arya muttered to Gendry, who scratched his short hair.

 

“Sorry, so who’s this guy again?” he asked and Arya just patted his hand.

 

“Sanny, I am sorry,” Robb told her again and Sansa shook her head.

 

“You’re an idiot Robb, but it’s not like you forced mom into it or knew what Petyr was going to do. It's just, next time, try not to do dumb shit that impacts anyone else, okay?”

 

“I’ll try,” he looked miserably to Talisa, who was cradling Alek and talking rapidly to her parents.

 

“I think it’s time to go,” Sansa declared, one hand gently rubbing Sandor’s shoulder. He rose, silently.

 

“Yeah, us too, before mom forces us to load up all those gifts,” Arya glanced at the mountain of boxes and bags.

 

“Thanks,” Rickon glared at the both of them, clearly incensed at being left.

 

“You’ve got help,” Sansa tapped Jon’s head and flicked Robb’s ear. It was an offense that usually meant that he’d throw her over his shoulder, but he accepted her wrath silently.

 

“See you guys later,” Arya flashed them a peace sign and Gendry gave a little wave.

 

“It was nice to see all you!”

 

“I still don’t understand them,” Sansa watched as Gendry helped Arya with her hat and coat and she held his hand.

 

“Stop trying to understand Arya,” Jon advised, getting up and hugging her.

 

“Talk to you later,” Sansa dropped kisses on Rickon and Bran’s head before going to say goodbye to Talisa and Alek.

 

“Leaving?” Talisa broke off her conversation mid stream.

 

“I think so,” Sansa kissed both Alek’s cheeks then his nose.

 

“I was just explaining to them everything that happened,” Talisa gestured to her parents. Her mother was giving Sansa a rather sympathetic look and Sansa smiled at her.

 

“Leave out the part that makes Robb look like an idiot, okay?”

 

“You’ve got a heart of gold,” Talisa gave her an awkward hug with Alek between them but Sansa appreciated it nonetheless. She also hugged her father and then waved to her mother on their way out. Sansa got their coats and ducked anyone who looked like they were coming over to speak to them, sticking close to Sandor as they left the church and went for the parking lot. It occurred to her then as they climbed back into his truck that he hadn’t said a word the entire time.

 

“Are you alright?” she asked him, as he started the truck and let it run for a moment in the bitter cold. 

 

“Fine,” he responded, in the short, clipped tone that meant he was so not very fine and she knew it.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, rather baffled. She felt better; her mother had stood up for her, Petyr had seemingly been banished, and the baptism was only slightly ruined.

 

“Nothing,” Sandor pulled out of the parking lot, but Sansa was sure that he just wanted an excuse to not have to look at her.

 

“Clearly something is,” she pressed, annoyed. It wasn’t like him to not tell her when something was bothering him and she would prefer if it stayed that way. They didn’t lie to each other, and that was why she liked it so much.

 

“Let it go,” a warning note slipped into his tone and Sansa sat back, stung.

 

“Was it something I did?” she demanded. His gaze flicked to her, just a moment.

 

“No.”

 

“Then why are you taking it out on me?” she threw her hands up. “If you’re pissed off about Petyr being a dick, look, I’m sorry, but don’t take it out on me, I mean—“

 

“Sansa!” he cut her off and she shrank back. Yelling reminded her all too much of Joffrey; even if she truly believed that Sandor would never hurt her, she couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction to his raised voice. Stomach twisted into knots, she pressed herself against the window, as far away from him as she could get.

 

Silence filled the truck, thick and choking smog. He was angry but she was both furious and petrified. She was furious that he made her feel this way, after everything that he would do something to scare her. And petrified because no matter how much she trusted him, there was a tiny part of her that would always recoil in a situation like this.

 

“Let me out,” she said finally, when she found her voice. It was tiny and feeble, sure, but it was there.

 

“Sansa, it’s not above zero right now and that’s not factoring in wind chill. You’re in a skirt. I’m driving you home.”

 

“If you’re going to yell at me—“

 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he had the decency to sound remorseful. “And I’m sorry. It’s just, what happened back there, I…..”

 

“What happened?” she glanced at him then, trying to figure out what the hell had set him off so badly. She knew that he didn’t do well with Petyr as a rule, but why he would snap at her for that, she didn’t know.

 

“It’s…. your family,” he was clearly struggling for words and Sansa looked at him, affronted.

 

“My family?”

 

“Yeah, that thing, with Robb,” he waved a hand.

 

  
“What about it?” she was still failing to understand how it made any difference to him. Sure, Petyr might threaten his job, but hadn’t Sandor already taken care of that?

 

“It’s you Starks!” something broke in Sandor then and the words came rushing out. “I can’t believe that you let them do that. Get away with it. It’s not right!”

 

“What isn’t?” Sansa was bewildered.

 

“The fact that you just use your last name like a key to open things up for you!”

 

“I don’t,” Sansa started, wounded, but Sandor paid her no mind.

 

“What if there had been another kid who didn’t make the team because Robb had, huh? A kid who didn’t have a mommy and daddy who could afford to buy off the board and get a nice letter of recommendation. Most kids don’t have that, you know that? Most kids don’t have private lessons and tutors and dance studios in their houses!”

 

“I know,” Sansa felt herself getting smaller and smaller. She knew that she and Sandor were not cut from the same cloth, but that never seemed to matter. Until now.

 

“No, you don’t get it Sansa! You don’t, because if you fail, you have two parents who will pick you up and pay for a new Range Rover and an apartment in downtown and money in your account for Sunday brunch. You don’t know how easy or good you have it! You don’t realize the amount of privilege you have. You can’t tell me there weren’t kids who worked harder than Robb and had just as much talent that missed out on making the team because Ned Stark could singlehandedly build them a new stadium if they wanted it.”

 

“I do know how lucky I am,” Sansa was close to tears but Sandor didn’t seem to be letting up.

 

“Fuck Sansa, and then to have to sit there while Robb rubs it in? That he didn’t have to take any responsibility for his actions? That he got to go to his dream school and play college football and I bet he never once worried about if his tuition was getting paid or if he’d have enough money for next month’s rent. After college he got to go work for daddy and make more money than most people do in ten years!”

 

“Why are you yelling at me for this?” tears were running down her cheeks and she didn’t care if it was ruining her makeup. “It’s not my fault that I was born a Stark, just like it’s not your fault that you were born a Clegane!”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” Sandor’s knuckles were white where he was gripped the steering wheel, but he wouldn’t look over at her. Sansa sat in silence until he got to her apartment; she was out of the car before it had even fully stopped. She didn’t look back as she let herself into the building and then up to her apartment. She was thankful that both Margaery and Jeyne were in their respective rooms watching Netflix and didn’t hear her arrival.

 

She went into her bedroom, flung herself down on her bed, and proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again don't murder me i said this wasn't gonna be angst and i meant it but we gotta have a little right? 
> 
> okay reviews are love


	27. Aveda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would fix it!!! 
> 
> On the real, I love getting to chat with you all about this story. It's taken on a life of it's own and is so special to me. I love sharing it with you, getting your opinions, and seeing how you see things. It's a great privilege and joy. 
> 
> Also Aveda hair products are life and the only thing to keep my hair from becoming a frizzy mess.

 

"Alright," Jeyne collapsed down into the seat next to her, "now that I have you cornered and contained, we need to talk."

 

"About what?" Sansa asked, playing dumb. 

 

"Something is wrong," Jeyne said flatly, "and you've been weird since Alek's baptism. I let it slide because these last two weeks have been hell, but now you have to tell me." 

 

"Is now the best time?" Sansa glanced around the plane. Most of the girls had headphones in or were dozing, but a few of them were up and chatting. The flight to Florida wasn't very long but Mel demanded that they all rest and focus, so most everyone was subdued. 

 

"No time like the present and I'm not going to have the chance to get you alone in a hotel room with a billion people in it at all times," Jeyne pointed out, then rubbed Sansa's arm. "What's wrong? And don't tell me something isn't." 

 

"I'm not sure," Sansa said honestly, glancing out at the still dark tarmac. 

 

She wasn't trying to get out of explaining things to Jeyne, it was more that she wasn't sure what was wrong. She and Sandor had fought, but her feelings on the matter differed so dramatically that she wasn't sure where she'd landed. Jeyne leaned her head and rested it on Sansa's shoulder. 

 

"You've listened to me bitch and fret over Beric enough times that I owe it to you. So what is it, your man? Arya? Your mom?" 

 

"All of the above, except Arya," Sansa admitted and Jeyne raised her head in surprise. 

 

"Wait, kidding?"

 

"No, we're actually getting along really well," Sansa stated and Jeyne blinked. 

 

"Huh. Then what is wrong?" 

 

"It's complicated," Sansa sighed. That was the best way she could think of describing it. After she'd finished crying her eyes out after the baptism and the hurt had died some, she'd been capable of critical thinking. She knew it wasn't her fault that she'd been born into wealth and privilege. She also knew that Sandor's early life had been incredibly tough. 

 

What she couldn't understand was why he was angry at her. It had been for Robb's benefit, not her's. And it wasn't like she'd ever asked for it. Sure, maybe he was upset that she'd had to fend off Petyr's advances so that Robb could go to the U, but that still left him mad at her mother or Robb, not her.   

 

At one point, after she realized he hadn't texted her, she'd resolved not to talk to him either then. She wavered between it being out of spite or taking the moral high ground to give him space. It didn't matter her reason; it remained that they hadn't spoken since the baptism and fight. Sansa wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. 

 

They'd both been so busy, she was hesitant to chalk it up to them being furious with each other. She'd had to spend every waking moment with her team, either practicing or trying to hold them together through sheer force of will. Face masks and pedicures and homemade mint brownies had proved successful in calming nerves and tensions within the team, but it hadn't left much time for anything else. Sansa hadn't even seen Alek. 

 

Sandor was just as busy with hockey. Through the social media of the other hockey players, Sansa knew they were all on the road or doing team activities. She was sure Sandor was busy with coaching and everything else, but it still stung that he hadn't bothered to reach out during the most stressful time of the entire year. She had her pride though and refrained from texting him. This was not her fight to fix. 

 

"Well are you and him okay?" Jeyne looked genuinely concerned for her and Sansa had a surge of affection for her best friend. She also appreciated the fact that Jeyne wasn't using Sandor's name aloud, even if the nearest girls to them, Mya and Dany, were fast asleep with headphones in. 

 

"I think so?" Sansa guessed and felt tears prick her eyes. Jeyne clearly saw the distress on her face and reached over, clasping their hands. 

 

"You guys have to be. You're the only reason I believe in true love." 

 

"No pressure," Sansa muttered but with a smile. 

 

"Well, what happened?" Jeyne snuggled into her and Sansa rest her head atop Jeyne's, sighing. 

 

"We were at Alek's baptism and I think Sandor finally realized who exactly my parents are." 

 

"How many presents did your mother get the kid?" Jeyne demanded and Sansa chuckled. 

 

"Not that many, actually. At least, not in front of people. No, it was something else. Something Robb did." 

 

"Oh, fuck, what?" 

 

"He was an idiot," Robb's stupidity still burned in Sansa's heart, but her brother had sent her flowers for good luck which had softened her some. She didn't even mind that it was more than likely Talisa's idea. 

 

"Well, that's a given," Jeyne scoffed, "but what did he do to piss off your sandwich?" 

 

"It's what my mom did, really," Sansa bit back a smile at Jeyne's nickname for Sandor, "and she pulled some strings to make sure that he got into the U, since he was not the ideal high school student if you remember." 

 

"I do remember," Jeyne said stoutly, "I remember that time when he was a senior and kept giving me Fireball shots." 

 

"You threw up all over my favorite pair of sheets," Sansa hit her knee. 

 

"I said sorry!" 

 

"So, I don't know. He got mad and stormed off and we haven't talked since," Sansa finished glumly and Jeyne was quiet. Too quiet. She usually had thoughts and ideas on how to fix it and more, but this time she was silent. Sansa waited a few moments, before elbowing her. 

 

"What?" Jeyne lifted her head up to give Sansa a wide eyed, innocent look. Sansa narrowed her eyes. 

 

"You want to say something, I can see it on your face." 

 

"Well, it's just that, I can't exactly blame him," Jeyne said carefully and Sansa tilted her head, questioningly. 

 

"Why not?" 

 

"Sansa, I love you, and I love your family, and we've been good friends for a really long time," Jeyne professed eagerly and Sansa's stomach sank. 

 

"But what?" 

 

"But sometimes it's hard," Jeyne looked down at her hands, "being around you guys. I know my family is well off, I do. But you guys can throw around money like it's nothing and that's hard for people." 

 

"But this wasn't money!" Sansa protested, "it was.... Influence." 

 

"And how it that better?" Jeyne pointed out gently and Sansa sat back, annoyed and angry. 

 

"I didn't ask to be born to my parents'," she muttered and Jeyne patted her arm. 

 

"I know sweetie. And I'm never mad at you. But I'm sure it was a slap in the face to him." 

 

"But he was a professional hockey player!" Sansa protested, "he knows how all this shit works!" 

 

"Sure but it's one thing to deal with it as a career hazard and another to deal with it when it comes to the family of your girlfriend," stated Jeyne. "Did you think that maybe he just needed a chance to step back and evaluate if he's alright with this, since he's planning on being a part of your family for a long time?" 

 

"No," Sansa huffed, even as her stomach turned over. Was that it? Was Sandor thinking about being Robb's brother in law? She couldn't blame him of course when she managed to look at it objectively. It made sense, needing to take a moment to accept being part of a family that had issues and power like hers. 

 

"Well, I'm sure he'll come back soon enough," Jeyne patted her hand and Sansa glared at her. 

 

"Why don't you just tell me he's an asshole and doesn't deserve me like a good best friend?"

 

"Oh, honey," Jeyne snuggled back in and put her headphones in, "he's an asshole and he doesn't deserve you. That better?" 

 

"....No." 

 

* * *

  

The sun was out in full force by the time they landed. Upon exiting the plane and feeling the full blast of hot, humid air, Arianne threw her arms wide and cried,

 

“Warmth! True, real warmth! Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

 

“The humidity,” Gilly was scowling as she braided her hair back, “I don’t understand how you like it.”

 

“Because for the first time in months, I can finally feel my toes,” Arianne looked down at her said feet; she’d changed into flip flops on the flight over, as well as a tank top and shorts.

 

“This winter has been mild,” Ygritte teased, as they made their way to the baggage claim. Arianne loudly declared that anything under 65 degrees was frigid, only to be mocked by the rest of her teammates for choosing Minnesota with those beliefs.

 

Sansa listened half heartedly. She’d turned her phone back on after the flight, half expecting that she’d have a text from Sandor wishing her luck. Instead, she had several texts in the family group chat stemming from a picture Talisa had sent, debating if Alek was smiling in a photo or not. Sansa saved the photo with a heavy heart, then clicked her phone off and went to haul bags.

 

The ride to the resort was hot, the bus was crowded, and all around them were other teams doing the exact same things. Sansa had been completely overwhelmed the first time she’d attended Nationals but now on her third year, it was nothing. She mostly just wanted a shower and a nap, but she knew that it was never going to happen. Mel had too many things planned, including a full practice to help wake them back up after their flight.

 

Catelyn was sending her flight details and information, letting Sansa know when they were going to land and where they would be staying. Sansa wanted to ask her if Sandor had said anything, but that would tip her off to something being wrong. Sansa wanted to avoid that at all costs. Part of her thought that maybe Arya could see, but if Sandor was still mad at her she didn’t know if Arya talking to him would make it better or worse.

 

She tried to forget about it. She was busy enough herding all the other girls where they needed to be. The freshmen girls were stunned and distracted, so Sansa had her hands full just dealing with them. Never mind the fact Margaery was making eyes at every male cheerleader they passed or that Dany was having a meltdown because Drogo was too hungover to get on his flight.

 

“Let’s all just go back to our hotel rooms and get changed up for team dinner tonight,” she encouraged the girls, half of whom were drooping in the heat.

 

"We just have to make it to Sunday night," Ygritte said encouragingly, watching with her as the girls went up to their rooms. Sansa nodded, piling her hair on top of her head. Some of the girls, like Dany and Arianne, thrived in the heat. It made Sansa tired just being in it, especially after the frigid weather they'd had at home. It made her feel like she was a kid again, when they use to stand outside in the snow then jump into the hot tub. 

 

"Sunday night," Sansa agreed tiredly. She couldn't bring herself to be excited about the upcoming weekend with everything happening with Sandor. Ygritte patted her arm and disappeared so Sansa gathered up her things and headed for her own room to shower. Jeyne was already out, towel drying her hair. Dany and Margaery still weren't back yet but Sansa had spotted them down by the pool talking to another team so she decided not to worry. 

 

"Your phone is ringing," Jeyne called, as Sansa got ready for her shower. 

 

"Will you answer it and put it on speaker?" her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if it was Sandor. 

 

"Hi Arya, it's Jeyne, I'm walking the phone over to Sansa," 

 

"Arya?" Sansa mouthed as Jeyne stuck her head in the bathroom. 

 

"I don't know," Jenye whispered back, handing her the phone. 

 

"Arya? What's wrong?" Sansa pulled a robe down and wrapped herself in it, shutting off the water. 

 

"What? Nothing. Why does something always have to be wrong?" 

 

"Because it usually is with you," Sansa said dryly, sitting down on the toilet. 

 

"Yeah, well, I might have done something stupid." 

 

"Oh, god, what?" Sansa's stomach plunged down to her knees. 

 

"Like stole mom's credit card and used it to buy a plane ticket for Gendry?" Arya sounded sheepish at least so Sansa just heaved a long sigh. 

 

"Why?" 

 

"Because spending a weekend down in Florida watching you dance is my nightmare," Arya sassed and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

"Sorry to inconvenience you."

 

"Ugh, sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a brat. But it's usually so boring, and I thought it would be fun to have him with," she confessed and Sansa looked down at her hands, beyond tired. 

 

"Does mom know?" 

 

"Yeah, she figured it out when there was a second charge for plane tickets on her card."  

 

"And she's already yelled at you and he's still coming?" 

 

"Yeah." 

 

"Then we're talking because....." Sansa trailed off, not wanting to sound rude but also slightly bewildered. 

 

"I just wanted someone to be excited that he was going to be there so I didn't feel bad about bringing him," Arya grumbled and Sansa managed a small smile at that. 

 

"I'm glad he's coming. I'll even give him a big hug tomorrow to prove it. Now I have to shower but I'll see you guys tomorrow. Good luck on the flight." 

 

"Thanks, bye," Arya hung up and Sansa set her phone on the counter, turning the water back on. 

 

"She's dating someone?" Jeyne stuck her head back in the bathroom, astonished. 

 

"It's a long story, I'll tell you on the way," Sansa glanced at the time, "but I have to shower!" 

 

"Yeah, okay," Jeyne retreated, still looking stunned. 

 

Sansa's hair was still half wet when they went to dinner; Jenye harassed her the entire time over who Gendry was and how Arya had gotten a boyfriend. Sansa did her best to whisper explanations but then Gilly overheard and she elbowed Lyanna, who alerted Mya, and then the whole team ended up listening to Sansa's story. She silently hoped that Arya would forgive her and was entirely grateful for the fact that Mel imposed a strict bedtime and refused to hear any argument against it. 

 

Sansa went to bed when she got back to the room, changing into pajamas and doing her nightly skincare routine. She pretended not to hear Margaery plotting with Dany on how to escape curfew and go meet up with one of Margaery's Tinder matches. Her heart still ached when she thought of Sandor and if he'd be there or not. 

 

She couldn't fall asleep, even though Jeyne had brought her diffuser and essential oils. The room was too humid; then when she got up and adjusted the air conditioner, it was too cold under the scratchy sheets. She tossed and turned, huffing when she couldn't relax. Jeyne, already asleep next to her, was oblivious. Finally, Sansa caved to the real reason for her insomnia and grabbed her phone. 

 

The text was short, but to the point. 

 

_I hope I get to see you this weekend._

 

Then she laid her head down and forced herself to fall asleep by running the routines in her head, over and over again. 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday didn't have any performances, but it did have their final run through and fittings. Sansa helped the younger girls with their hair, teaching them the trick of doing it in the humidity. They did their turning series, Mel shouting instructions. Then they stood as she inspected each of them, fixing costumes and giving out orders on how to do their makeup correctly. Sansa noticed that Shireen, next to her, was warily eyeing the crowds that had gathered. 

 

"Don't be scared," Sansa told her, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze. 

 

"I'm not scared," Shireen said instantly, before giving her a somewhat sheepish smile. "Sorry, it's just that this is big. Really big." 

 

"It's just like performing at state," Sansa said bracingly. "Except way hotter."  

 

"It's not the performance, it's the staring," Shireen admitted, "they all just watch us." 

 

"Well," Sansa tried to make out the letters on the uniforms of the other teams but they were too far away, "you don't win over a dozen National Championships and not get some attention. Shake it off, they're just trying to see what we can do." 

 

"I want to see that lift again!" Mel barked and Sansa gave Shireen one last smile before moving into a different formation. 

 

They had the afternoon to greet the family members that were coming in. Sansa flipped her phone over idly in her hand, waving to Jeyne's parents when they arrived. She hadn't gotten a response from Sandor but thanks to her family group chat and Rickon's snapchat stories, she knew that her family couldn't be that far away. 

 

She was thankful, in a selfish way, that Mel had decided Mycerella was an alternate. It meant that the Lannister family wouldn't be attending. Sansa liked her teammate well enough and thought she was a sweet girl. But even if Joffrey wouldn't be coming, Sansa hated the idea of Cersei coming. Joffrey's mother hated her and thought that Sansa had ruined Joffrey's future.

 

"Where's Robb?" Roslin came up from behind her, throwing her arm around Sansa's shoulder and squeezing tightly. 

 

"At home with his wife and child," Sansa said dryly and Roslin pretended to pout. Talisa had felt so bad about missing Nationals, but Sansa had assured her over and over that taking a newborn baby cross country at a month and half was insane. Talisa promised she was watching at home, with Alek in a little **'Gopher's #1 Fan!** ' shirt. 

 

"What a shame. Hey, do you think that Irri's cute brother is going to be here?" Roslin perked up and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

"You're shameless." 

 

"Only in the pursuit of true love!" Roslin called, jogging over to where Irri was talking to her family. 

 

"Sansa!" she heard her father call and she turned, smiling when she saw her entire family walking in. Catelyn looked like she was in the midst of a nervous breakdown and Sansa would have bet money on it being over Gendry and Arya, hand in hand. 

 

"Hi!" she rushed over, ignoring the sinking in her stomach at the fact that Sandor wasn't with them. She told herself that he might have been on a different flight, that was all.

 

"Hi-good luck-can we go the pool now?" Rickon's greeting was the most impatient and his hug brief. 

 

"Yeah, yeah," Sansa laughed, "I only have a few minutes then you can go to the pool." 

 

"I like the hair this year," Bran remarked as she gave him a short hug. 

 

"Thank you, it was all Dany," Sansa revealed, reaching up to kiss her father's cheek. "Thanks for coming, you guys." 

 

"Are you staying hydrated?" Catelyn asked as Sansa gave her a hug, "you're looking flushed." 

 

"I drink at least 96 ounces a day mom," Sansa promised, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

 

"You should drink more down here," Catelyn urged and Sansa gave her a smile but moved onto Arya and Gendry, giving them both a big smile. 

 

"Gendry! Thank you so much for coming!"

 

"Thanks," Arya mouthed behind his back. 

 

"Yeah, it's awesome," Gendry was wearing a little too much black for the heat, but he looked genuinely happy to be there. 

 

"We should go say hello to the Mormont's," Catelyn muttered, spotting Lyanna's parents across the way. 

 

"Is Sandor with you?" Sansa asked, trying to squash down the hope and disappointment that rose in twin coils.  

 

"Uh," Arya hesitated and Sansa's stomach sank. She felt the tears prick her eyes and she blinked rapidly to hide them, until Arya moved aside and there stood Sandor, holding flowers and looking supremely uncomfortable in the Florida heat. 

 

Sansa gasped despite herself. She had spent so long preparing herself for the fact that he wasn't coming that she half expected him to be a mirage. But then he raised his hand in a tentative wave and she launched herself at him, hugging him around the neck tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. 

 

"Get a room," Rickon sounded disgusted, but Sansa didn't care. Let them think that she was just overeager, missing her boyfriend after a short separation. She didn't care about anything that wasn't Sandor in front of her, hugging her back. 

 

"Urgh, let's go," she heard Arya complained and after a few moments, when Sansa finally pulled back, her entire family had dispersed to go say hello to friends. Or in Rickon's case, find the pool. 

 

"You came," she said quietly, beaming at him. Sandor rubbed the back of his neck, then handed her the flowers. 

 

"Yeah, I never planned on canceling my flights or anything." 

 

"Then why haven't you spoken to me since the baptism?" some of Sansa's joy was cooling now into anger, frustration that she'd thought she'd repressed bubbling back up. 

 

"Look, I can explain," Sandor said eagerly, grabbing her shoulders. She glared at him, daring him to say something wrong. "I panicked." 

 

"Over what?" she demanded and he closed his eyes briefly. 

 

"You. Us," he admitted and she was silent, listening. "I never thought about my future beyond hockey, Sansa. Everything was just hockey and coaching. Maybe one day I would be head coach, maybe I could go onto the NHL. I didn't think the whole wife and family thing was ever going to happen, on account of this," he gestured to his scar. 

 

"That's not a--" Sansa started but he waved his hand, trying to silence her. 

 

"I know, I know. But it wasn't like I was seeking it out. So I said fuck it, hockey bachelor for the rest of life. And I was fine with that! But then comes you and you're the cutest fucking thing in the whole world and you're sweet to me and you got under my skin and then I fell in love with you and it just happened before I even had a chance to think about.

 

"And then I realized on New Years that I wanted to be with you forever and that you wanted the same thing and I thought that was great - and it is, so don't make that face! - but I had to realize some things. Like the fact that you want kids. Probably a lot of them, if your family is anything to go off of. 

 

"You have to realize I had never thought about that before ever in my life. Kids. Home. Wife. Planning a future with someone else. And it seemed so natural to you, so easy. And I made a mountain out of a molehill over the fact that your father is insanely wealthy and that sometimes your mom makes dumb choices." 

 

"I've been blaming Robb, but go on," Sansa said softly and Sandor's eyes shone as he took her hands in his. 

 

"I panicked, alright? Dumb hockey boy. Needed some space to get through my emotions, make sure that I wasn't doing something stupid." 

 

"And what did you decided?" Sansa's heart was pounding in her chest. 

 

"I'm going to keep doing dumb hockey player shit," grinning, Sandor cupped her cheek, "but I'd like you to be there to stop me."

 

"Deal," Sansa stretched up to kiss him as deeply as she could in public. Sandor held the kiss for several moments before he pulled away. 

 

"Oh, and I got you something to say sorry. I was holding onto it for a special occasion but I thought you'd like it now. For luck," he explained, reaching into his pocket. Sansa tilted her head, until he presented her with a small pouch. Curious, she opened it and plucked the item from its depths. 

 

"Sandor!" she exclaimed when she saw what it was. The tiny Minnesota necklace from their first date back in the fall, when she'd made him dance on the steps. 

 

"I thought it would be poetic to give to you one year later, but now seemed better," he was blushing now and Sansa was overwhelmed at how romantic an idea it was. 

 

"I'm happy to have it now," she pressed it back into his palm and turned around for him to put it on. It took a second for his large fingers to work the small clasp, but once it was on she turned back around, beaming at him. 

 

"Looks good," he stated and she gave him another kiss. 

 

"It's perfect, I love it."

 

"I love you," he said gently and Sansa about fainted. She kissed him again, and again, and then once more when she heard Mel start to call for them. 

 

"I have to go, but I will text you," she promised, tearing herself away. 

 

"Good luck," he raised his hand in goodbye and she beamed at him before dashing back to her team. She skidded to a stop when she realized that her teammates had formed a wall of shocked faces. She looked at Myranda, who was scratching her head, to Missy, who kept blinking, to Alayaya, who looked to be ready to burst. 

 

"I did tell you," she accused them all, before they all began shouting questions.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there is much much more to come and again I appreciate all the love and thoughtful commentary given. Bless you all - I'm going to hang out with 8,000 people on a frozen lake today.


	28. UMDT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nationals time whooooo! this chapter is for all my dance friends. and if any of you want to experience both disney and dancers well then do I have a place a for you. 
> 
> chapter title stands for university of minnesota dance team aka sansa's team!

“We can’t practice right now,” Dany exclaimed to Mel, who looked irate, “Sansa has a boyfriend!”

 

“And why the hell should I care?” Mel asked tartly.

 

“She gets it,” Sansa tried to ignore the fact that questions were coming from every angle.

 

“How long?”

 

“Since when?”

 

_“How!”_

 

“Is he a good kisser?”

 

“So you weren’t kidding?”

 

_“How?”_

 

“Holy shit, is he good in bed?”

 

“Does your family know? Wait, did he come with them?”

 

_**“HOW?”** _

 

“Alright, enough!” Mel snapped and everyone went silent, “it is not your business to care about Sansa’s boyfriend in this moment, no matter how entertaining he may be. What matters is that we are the reigning National Champions and that every moment we are distracted is a chance for some other school to swoop in and steal the crown off your very fucking heads. Is that what you want?”

 

“No ma’am,” they all chorused, some a bit sullenly.

 

“Good,” Mel said briskly, “now I want you to run the pom routine from the top, full out. And before you say another word Missy, I know you have the knee injury so you may mark. But everyone else better be performing like the pride of Minnesota depends on them or so help me God….”

 

Mel made good on her promise. They weren’t allowed to speak the rest of the day, not even when they went to the field house to watch other teams compete. Sansa could tell them it was killing them inside to not talk about it, so once Mel dismissed them to get food, she took pity on her teammates and announced,

 

“I’ll take three questions and then we’re all going to focus on dance before Mel lights someone on fire.”

 

“No one talk,” Margaery shouted, “we decide this by committee!”

 

“You are all insane,” Sansa watched in amusement as they huddled, clearly talking things over. She pulled out her phone and saw that a new group chat had been formed, tilted,

 

**_Florida is the butthole of America, change my mind_ **

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_Rickon is seriously trying to wheel on some girls down here_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Someone needs to tell them he’s not legal_

 

**Rickrock**

 

_I’m not doing anything illegal asshole_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_jesus fuck this kid_

 

**My Man**

 

_I’ll keep an eye on him then_

 

**Rickrock**

 

_Hell yeah I’ll go with Sandor_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_No mom said I’m in charge i’m going to wield my power_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Tyrant_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_Robb and Theon and Jon aren’t here_

_Sansa is performing_

_I’m the oldest now_

_Look at me, look at me. I am the captain now_

 

**My Man**

 

_That’s terrifying_

 

_I’ll try to sneak away. Anything to prevent an arya takeover_

 

**Pain in my Ass**

 

_Fuck off I would make an excellent dictator_

 

**Bran Stark**

 

_Because the company is so illustrious_

 

_Don’t use big words, you know it confuses Rickon_

 

“Okay, we’ve decided,” Ros declared, straightening up. Sansa raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of her salad.

 

“Fire away, I’m all ears.”

 

“When the hell did this start, and you have to be specific,” Shae stated and Sansa felt a smile creeping up her cheeks.

 

“Do you remember the alumni event?”

 

  
“That was in August,” Mya stated in disbelief and Sansa nodded smugly.

 

“I mean, it makes sense, he is a coach after all,” Gilly pointed out and Lyanna pressed her temples.

 

“This hurts my fucking head.”

 

“We met that night and he gave me a ride home,” Sansa left out the other details as they were unnecessary, but gave them this, “and we just started talking.”

 

“How serious are you?” Arianne looked intrigued.

 

“I would say very,” Sansa said carefully and Jeyne blurted out, from the back row,

 

“They love each other!”

 

“Thanks brat,” Sansa grinned at her to let her know that she wasn’t truly mad.

 

“This is insane,” Roslin kept scrunching her forehead up so Sansa reached over and gave it a poke.

 

“Careful or you’ll get wrinkles.”

 

“I just cannot believe you’ve been telling us the entire time that it’s him and we didn’t believe you,” Myranda was the only one who looked more impressed than incensed.

 

“That’s on you, not on me!”

 

“Okay, yes, touché,” Ros said impatiently, “now onto the most important question. Have you slept together and if so, is he good in bed?”

 

“I am not answering that,” Sansa protested instantly.

 

“You said three questions!”

 

“Oh good god,” Sansa buried her head in her hands for a moment and then looked up, casting her gaze around for any support. It seemed that she wouldn’t find it; aside from Shireen and Mycrella who just looked vaguely uncomfortable, all the other faces were eager.

 

“That’s clearly a yes, you would have denied it if you hadn’t,” Ygritte rationalized and Sansa glared at her.

 

“Just give us a number!” Irri said excitedly and Missy nodded.

 

“One to ten.”

 

“Which way is which?” Sansa asked carefully and there was a furious, breathless debate, before Roslin answered,

 

“Ten is the best, obviously.”

 

“Alright,” Sansa took a huge bite of salad, chewing it as all the girls perched on the edge of their seats in anticipation. She swallowed, then took a languid sip of water, until Dany finally snapped.

 

“Tell us Stark!”

 

“Ten,” Sansa confirmed, her cheeks flaming and they broke into cheers.

 

“You’re finally having good sex,” Mya looked so proud, “it’s what you deserve.”

 

“Enough about her sex life or she’s going to going drown herself in the ocean,” Jeyne came to her rescue very sweetly, “she said three questions and that’s it. Now we have to focus or Mel really is going to kill us.”

 

Bedtime was early and sleep came far easier than it had the night before. All it took for Sansa to doze off was the sound of Jeyne’s even, smooth breathing and the faint bubbling from the diffuser. Sansa slept soundly with the knowledge that her family was here, so was Sandor, her team was prepared for the upcoming day, and that they had each set ten alarms so her chances of oversleeping were close to zero.

 

The next day was planned to the minute by Mel; they knew their schedule by heart. Sansa had her normal, light breakfast and did her best to calm the nerves of everyone around her. Semi-finals were usually a breeze but Sansa knew that getting overconfident could be the worst thing for a team. She kept the atmosphere light but focused as they got ready and put on their costumes. Sansa was grateful the pom was in the morning then jazz in the afternoon. She cared more for jazz and wanted the girls to work out their nerves.

 

She’d never lost the thrill of performing. It didn’t matter if she was five years old and in the living room for her parents, or 21 and in front of thousands. It was the same rush of emotions and endorphins, until she was high on adrenaline and excitement. The performance transcended all else; thoughts, worries, anxieties, hopes, fears all melted away and she was consumed by the rush.

 

She knew, as she walked onto the brightly lit stage, out there in the audience were her parents, and siblings, and most importantly, Sandor. Theon, Talisa, Robb, and Jon would all be watching via the livestream, but somewhere beyond the white haze was Sandor, and the thought that he was going to get to see her excel made her smile so hard it hurt her cheeks. She took her space in the opening formation and lifted one pom high in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Shae, Roslin, and Alayaya, all beaming.

 

She was here. She was ready. This was her moment.

 

The music started and Sansa let herself dance.

 

She knew they had done well based on the roar that went through the crowd when the music ended. She could hear, somewhere off in the distance, the signature loud whoops of Margaery’s father. Mel was beaming and clapping while the announcer began to talk about the next team. Limbs trembling from the exertion, Sansa picked herself up off the floor and walked offstage, head held high until they were away from the crowd. Then Mya shrieked and grabbed her in a hug, jumping up and down.

 

“Ladies, that was just the first performance!” Mel was there almost instantly to temper any excitement they might have had. Sansa understood the need for it, but she was too happy to care. There was no way that they weren’t going to make finals tomorrow and have a chance at the title. That was all that mattered. She tried to get her heart to stop racing as they made their way back to the open air.

 

They had a brief window to see their family members later, once they’d regained the ability to breathe. Sansa changed out of her pom uniform and into a tank top and spandex, digging her phone out to see where her mother wanted to meet. She reminded Lyanna and Irri to be back before Mel’s instructed time, then set out to find her family. It didn’t take long, given that her father and boyfriend stood head and shoulders above the entire crowd.

 

“Holy shit,” Gendry spotted her first, “how can you do that?”

 

“Sansa!” Catelyn pulled her into a hug.

 

“That was amazing,” Rickon stated, while Bran nodded in agreement.

 

“Ohio wasn’t half as good.”

 

“Thanks you guys,” Sansa kissed her brothers’ on the cheek and even managed to wrangle a hug from Arya. She high-fived her father and then gave Sandor a quick peck. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with a proud gleam in his eyes.

 

“Bran is right, Ohio had sloppy turns,” Catelyn instantly launched into her scouting report, making Sansa laugh. How other teams did today didn’t matter so much, but she knew Mel would appreciate the report when she came back with it.

 

“I can’t wait for jazz,” Sansa commented, when the conversation finally moved away from if other teams danced as many girls as they had.

 

“You should get back before you miss anything,” Catelyn looked at her watch fretfully and Sansa had to admit her point. She still had to eat and change her hair and makeup style for the jazz performance.

 

“Good luck,” Sandor kissed her cheek and Sansa grinned at him. The necklace sat warm against her neck, where she’d hidden it under her costume. She liked having a piece of Sandor near her when she performed.

 

“Good luck!” the rest of her family chorused as she departed, waving over her shoulder. On her way, she picked up some of her teammates, ushering them back.

 

“You need to have your hair done,” Mel chided them when they arrived and Sansa nodded, sitting Lyanna down in a chair so that she could work on her hair. While Sansa did Lyanna’s, Ros did hers, until there was just a chain of girls working on each other’s hair and makeup. Sansa loved that they all were so accustomed to each other now that there was no need to even speak. They were a team.

 

Sansa ate a light lunch as she tried to relax. She did yoga in the corner to stretch herself back out, until the time came to get uniforms on. Sansa pulled hers on, still marveling at the beauty of them. While they waited for their turn at the field house, Sansa adjusted the uniforms for the other girls and gave them quiet reassurances. They had performed this routine so many times they could do it in their sleep. Or so, that’s what she said.

 

But this performance was special. Sansa had listened to the music so many times it was almost as though it was imprinted into her very soul, but this time it was different. This time she felt the music, she felt the story they were trying to tell. Two lovers, separated and hurting, longing for each other. Unsure of what to keep, what to give, wanting to meet in the middle but not able to do so.

 

She danced for Sandor, for the simple fact that despite everything, they had worked it out. That they were here, together, even with all the things that they’d faced. The future was theirs and Sansa poured out all her emotion into the movements of the dance. She had never felt like this before and she tried to show it.

 

There was something beautiful, dancing with the other girls. At one point, Sansa grasped forearms with Myranda, who gave her just a half second of an extra squeeze. She helped them lift Roslin high, surrounded by her teammates should she fail. Moving in perfect harmony, living and breathing and dancing as one body all together.

 

Sansa had never felt so free. Her chest felt as though it was wide open, bounding outwards. As they neared the end of the turning sequence and she prepared for her big leap, all of time slowed. She was here and now, the star. Her moment. So when she launched herself into the air, it was with more abandon than she’d ever had in her entire life before.

 

They ended on the floor, head on their hands. Every muscle in Sansa’s body was vibrating at a frequency that felt like she was going to shatter like glass. Eventually her sense of hearing returned, to the massive roar of the crowd. It seemed as though every spectator in the field house was on their feet. Sansa rose in sync with her teammates and walked off the stage with their heads held high.

 

"Uff da," Jeyne leaned heavily on Sansa as they waited for Mel to join them offstage. Some of the girls were cheering, some crying, some leaning against the wall and trying to catch their breath. Sansa's heart was still pounding and her whole body felt numb, but she managed a smile when Ygritte came to wrap her in a hug. 

 

"That's going to be the most amazing performance, I can already tell," she said confidently and Sansa nodded, trying to just breathe. 

 

"Ladies," Mel yelled when she made her way to them. It didn't take anything else; she promptly burst into tears while the girls screamed. 

 

"Alright, alright, we still have finals tomorrow," Dany was the one to temper them finally and Mel nodded, wiping her eyes. 

 

"Dinner and rest," she ordered, shepherding them back to their dressing room. "And hang up those uniforms, I don't want any wrinkles!" 

 

"It's all fun and games until we have to do this again tomorrow," remarked Gilly, tossing Sansa her garment bag. Sansa grinned as she pulled her costume off, glancing down at her phone now that they were done with their performances. She had several texts from Talisa, exclaiming over how much she loved the routine and how well they'd done. Sansa ignored those in favor of the single one she had from Sandor - 

 

_You are so goddamn amazing. Every single time. I love you._

 

Mel let them go see their families after the finals were announced. Sansa was swept up in hugs and congratulations that they'd made it, even though according to Bran there was no contest. Sansa trusted his judgement more than any of the other's; Bran had been to too many dance recitals and competitions to not have a critical eye. 

 

It wasn't a long reunion, as Mel's schedule dictated that they be back for dinner and then team bonding. Sansa wished that she had more time with Sandor, but she didn't mind. It felt as though they'd turned the corner into the fact that they were going to spend their lives together. She only had one more year of dance, so she chose to enjoy this time with them. 

 

What she enjoyed less was, as they all gathered, was that she seemed to be the focus of the conversation. 

 

"Have you seen how tall he is?" Irri was braiding Dany's hair, "he has to have a huge dick." 

 

"Guys!" Sansa chided as she touched up Arianne's nails. 

 

"And he's a hockey player, so he has a nice ass," Myranda added shamelessly and Sansa glared at them. 

 

"I just had no idea you liked older men," Margaery was the most incensed of the whole group, given that she lived with Sansa. She was taking it rather hard that Sansa had managed to sneak around behind her back for so long. 

 

"I had no idea you liked them so.... rough," Shae clapped her back and Sansa rolled her eyes. 

 

"Tomorrow we compete for our National Title and we're still going on about who I'm sleeping with?" she demanded. 

 

"Honestly, I'm pretty impressed. He's probably the only guy in the state who could keep up with your brothers," Lyanna remarked and Sansa bit back a smile. 

 

_Maybe you shouldn't tell your team about us. If they're anything like mine, it's just going to cause a headache._

 

**What are the harpies doing?**

 

_Do you really want to know?_

 

**Yes?**

 

_You won't go running away screaming?_

 

**Little bird.**

 

_They're debating your dick size._

 

**And you told them that I'm a knockout in bed right?**

 

_You betcha._

 

**That's my girl.**

 

Sunday dawned sunny, hot, and with a sun so bright it almost hurt to look at. Sansa felt like her mother, constantly reminding all the girls to drink their water, but she didn't care much. The heat was oppressive to her and she was glad when Mel decreed that their warmups and stretching were to be done inside. Sansa let Ygritte lead warmup before she took over with the stretching. 

 

The feeling in the air was always different on Sunday. With the first performance over and done, the nerves had calmed some. The energy shifted from frantic anticipation to focused and determined resolve. Mel hardly had any chance to chide them as they prepared for jazz. 

 

It was reversed, jazz then pom but Sansa found she didn't mind. She wanted to go and perform jazz again. She wanted to win. She wanted to show the entire world what they had spent hours and weeks and months perfecting. She intertwined her arm with Arianne's on the way over, leaning her head on her shoulder. 

 

"Last time, best time," Arianne whispered and Sansa smiled, refusing to let herself cry when she had so much makeup on. 

 

"Last time, best time," she repeated and heard it chorused around them several times over. 

 

Sansa always cried during the last performances. She had since she was a child. It wasn't because she was sad or upset really. But she did mourn, just a little, each time that the season came to an end. All the hard work was done and things would never be the same again. This group of girls would never perform this dance again and it broke her heart, however so slightly. She never liked endings. 

 

She danced for her team today. Yesterday had been for Sandor, filled with love and passion and happiness for the two of them. But today was for the twenty-odd of them, for the months they'd sweat and cried and bled and laughed together. Her team, as one, together. That was who she danced for today and she knew that they all were doing the same. 

 

She felt the same from the rest of the girls. It made all the work worth it, to be together as a team. This was what mattered to her, what had made her fall so in love with dance in the beginning. She loved the attention, she loved the physical movement, but more than anything, dancing made her a part of something far bigger than herself. 

 

Mel cried after their performance, bringing them all in for a hug and proclaiming it perfect. Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, glad that it had gone as well as she'd felt it had. Mel dried her tears and dismissed them to go see their families, though not before reminding them exactly when they needed to be back to eat and prepare for the final performance of pom.

 

"Guys!" she called, when she spotted them. They all turned and Sansa grinned, rushing for them. Sandor met her first, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up slightly. Sansa burst into laughter until he put her down and gave her a kiss. 

 

"Amazing!" Catelyn pushed Sandor aside remorselessly, giving her a hug. 

 

"National Champs, for sure," Bran agreed and Sansa beamed at them. She took pictures with all of them, including another one where Sandor was lifting her high above him, grinning at each other. 

 

Then it was back to her team to get ready for pom. Any lingering nerves had since been burnt off and the atmosphere was nothing but pure excitement. No one was complaining that Myranda had taken over the aux cord and was playing some variation of Irish pop that none of them could understand. Mel supervised them getting ready with a smug, self satisfied smile on her face. Occasionally she’d slip little gems into the conversations - “remember ladies, this is yours for the losing” and “your only competition is who you were yesterday” but for the most part they were able to ignore her.

 

Sansa nibbled on some fruit and granola since they were missing lunch as she did her own hair and makeup then helped the other girls. She mostly tried to enjoy the whole of the day with her teammates. It was easy when things went smoothly; the only hiccup in the entire day was when Gilly panicked and thought she lost her pom poms, only to find them stuffed into Irri’s bag.

 

“Does everyone have everything?” Sansa called, when they got ready to head back over.

 

“Yes,” several girls chorused and Sansa paused.

 

“Will someone double check that Ros has both her shoes?”

 

“I forget a shoe one time and no one ever lets me live it down!”

 

“Alright, let’s go over,” Mel tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and strode out, her sparkling maroon skirt catching every glint of light the Florida sun had to offer. If she noticed the looks the other coaches tossed her way, she didn’t let it show. It occurred to Sansa, offhandedly, that Margaery had a very good chance of turning into their coach one day sans the hair color. She wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation, but resolved to share it with her team after their performance. When they got to the field house, everyone spread out slightly, last minute stretching and marking to be done.

 

“Bring it in everyone,” Ygritte called, as they heard their name announced as performing soon. They circled up, clasping hands. Sansa rested her head on Shae’s shoulder, the same sadness invading her chest and holding her heart captive. “You can do this, every single one of you. This is it, this the absolute last, final time, alright? No more after this,” Yrgitte’s voice caught but she kept going, “so go out there and give it all you’ve got. Leave it on the floor. Because we deserve this!”

 

“You were born to be dancers, every one of you,” Sansa added with a watery smile and Lyanna, two down from her whispered under her breath,

 

“Hell yeah Herb.”

 

“You can do this,” Mel told them, a tiny glint of tears in her eyes, “and I will be so proud of each and every one of you no matter what.”

 

“She only says that because she’s emotional, she’ll still make us run if we get anything less than first,” Mya’s humor cut the emotion like a knife and everyone laughed, a welcome relief.

 

“Do this for each other,” Mel intoned and that was her final instruction. When their name was called, they all walked onto the floor with heads held high, big smiles on their faces. Sansa looked into the bright spotlight, beyond which the judges sat, took a deep breath, and danced.

 

Halfway through the routine, Lyanna did an arial. It was the biggest moment of the whole dance and from Sansa’s spot in the formation, she could see exactly how well it did or didn’t go. She held her breath ever so slightly as Lyanna began to run but it was for nothing. She nailed it and Sansa knew from the screams in the crowd that the rest of the routine was going to be a success.

 

After the performance, which Mel told them was flawless, Sansa went to find her family and have a quick bite to eat before the awards in the evening. She bobbed and weaved through the crowd until she found them all, watching in amusement as Arya bickered with Sandor over the need to reduce the consumption of red meat. Sansa tackled Arya in a hug, grinning to herself even as Arya groaned.

 

“I’m only allowing this because it’s your big day!”

 

“So what’s the secret?” Sansa asked Gendry, still hanging onto her sister even as Arya tried to throw her off like a small bull.

 

“Of getting her to hug you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“He isn’t all sweaty you weirdo,” Arya finally succeeded in shoving her off and Sansa grinned, turning to hug everyone else in her family. They went to eat and Sansa put her feet up in Sandor’s lap as she scrolled on her phone, intently focused on the screen. Sandor finally squeezed her toes.

 

“What are you up to?”

 

“I’m posting something to insta,” she explained, “or I’m getting ready to.”

 

“For what?” he asked and she showed him the phone. She had several photos in the gallery, including some of her and her teammates, her on Rickon’s back to continue a photo series they’d had going since her freshman year, and the one of her and Sandor. Her caption read _’Trophies are great but memories are better’._

 

“I still need one more picture of us with the trophy,” she explained when he looked up quizzically.

 

“And you say hockey players are cocky?” he raised his eyebrows and Sansa snatched the phone back, smirking.

 

“You were there. Did anyone else beat us?”

 

“Fuck if I know,” Sandor leaned across the gap to give her a kiss, “dance isn’t as straightforward as hockey.”

 

“Can you two like not do that at the table?”

 

“Oh shut up, like you weren’t kissing Gendry under the bleachers!”

 

“Mom, next year I’m bringing Jojen.”

 

“If Bran gets to bring Jojen, I get to bring Danny!”

 

“Oh sure, and why not bring the dogs down while we’re at it?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Awards went late into the night, but Sansa wasn’t tired. Perhaps it was because she’d gone with some of her teammates to get massive iced coffees with lots of sugar and whipped cream just because they could. But as she finished touching up her makeup and putting on her warmups, she felt the same sadness threaten to crush her. It stayed with her as they all trooped onto the stage with the other teams, arranging themselves neatly. Sansa felt their eyes on her back but she ignored it. She focused on the fact that somewhere out there, her family was watching. All she wanted to do was make them proud.

 

The awards were mostly boring and for show anyways, since everyone knew the only thing that mattered was the championship title anyways. Sansa squeezed the hands of her teammates gently as the third place team was called, then second. They hadn’t been called for either and while Sansa knew, in the back of her mind, that there was a small chance that they hadn’t placed in pom at all, a more overpowering part of her was sure that they had won.

 

“And your National Champions in pom…. the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers!”

 

Sansa wasn’t sure if she was yelling, crying, jumping up and down, or hugging any of her teammates she could get her hands on. It was likely all of the above, repeatedly. The other teams clapped politely, smiling automatically, but Sansa didn’t notice or care. She was too busy going with Mel to receive their massive trophy and bring it back to their team.

 

After awards there was a short break where they parading the trophy around and took photos, as a group and then each girl took the chance to hoist it high, beaming. Sansa, Dany, and Ygritte held it high, a slight weight off their shoulders. Then Mel carefully passed the trophy off into safe hands so that they could go back in for jazz awards.

 

Sansa held tight to Jeyne and Alayaya’s hands, her stomach flipping. All she wanted was to win jazz. She could go home happy if they won, that was all it took. She’d poured her heart and soul into this season and no matter what sort of amazing things had happened over the course of it - Sandor, Alek, fixing things with her mother and Arya, all the memories - she wanted the trophy. She wanted to win.

 

The announcer kept talking about irrelevant things, at least to Sansa’s ears. She wanted to tell him to hurry up and just say who won, but she kept herself in check, trying not to fidget. As he announced third place, Sansa closed her eyes and buried her face in Jeyne’s shoulder. When he announced second, Sansa gasped and lifted her head.

 

“And in first place, a tradition they don’t seem to be breaking…. the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers!”

 

Sansa sat on the floor and cried, so filled with happiness that there was nothing else she could do. Finally Roslin and Arianne grabbed her under the arms and heaved her to her feet so that she could go get the trophy. Sansa could hardly see through her tears, but it didn’t matter. They had done it. She had accomplished everything she’d set her mind to. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

 

After awards there was a massive party in Disney. Mel let them all go and the families usually joined them. Sansa found herself with several of her teammates who’s family members weren’t coming to the party following her as she searched through the crowd for Sandor and her siblings. Roslin, Mya, and Lyanna all eagerly trailed her, explaining that they just wanted to meet Sandor.

 

“Is this how it’s going to go?” Sansa demanded of them, still too delighted in the day to be truly annoyed.

 

“Yeah, Alayaya is saying bye to her dad then she’s coming too,” Lyanna explained and Sansa rolled her eyes.

 

Sandor took the onslaught of attention from her team relatively well. The girls keep getting congratulated by other dancers and sometimes whole teams would come over to talk to them about their performance. Sandor stayed by Sansa's side, answering questions from her teammates like yes, he did play professionally, yes he did get into a lot of fights, no he had never knocked anyone out out completely, yes he did think that his hockey boys were morons.

 

“You’ve been hiding so much from us,” Margaery bemoaned as Sandor told the story of the time he’d been playing a game with several Wild players when they’d gotten caught in a massive snow storm.

 

“I’m just glad I can talk to him on the phone now,” Sansa remarked, grinning.

 

“And I’m glad there’s no more codenames,” Jeyne added, the only one who wasn’t enamored with Sandor currently. She was texting photos of the trophy to Beric.

 

“You guys did amazing today!” someone called from the crowd and they all shouted back,

 

“Thank you!”

 

“So anyways, is he going to come over more often?” Margaery demanded and Sansa looked at her skeptically.

 

“Why?”

 

“i’m just thinking that if he’s got any connections to cute Wild players, it might be nice!”

 

“I am not pawning you off on any of Sandor’s friends,” Sansa said firmly, even as she thought that perhaps Bronn and Margaery wouldn’t be too bad for each other.

 

“After all I’ve done for you?”

 

“Oh hey, I forgot I was going to tell you all this,” Sansa turned to her team and said loudly, “does Marg remind anyone else of Mel?”

 

“You know, now that you mention it,” Ros said thoughtfully and Margaery was too busy arguing to try and get any more out of Sansa.

 

“How are you doing?” Sansa asked him as he kissed the top of her head.

 

“Ready to get out of this humid hell hole and go back to work,” he admitted and Sansa frowned slightly up at him.

 

“Wait, are you missing games for this?”

 

“Oh, beer,” Sandor ignored her question entirely and went to go get himself something to drink. Sansa watched him go fondly then pulled out her phone. She resumed the post, adding and editing the last remaining picture of her team with both trophies held high. Then she hit post and went to Sandor’s side so that she could kiss him deeply as fireworks set off behind them to end the day.

 

* * *

 

mark - when you do the dance without doing it, mainly standing in formation and reviewing the dance in your head

 

Ohio - always a good contender, they won pom this year

 

uff da and you betcha - honestly surprised it took me so long to get those into a chapter. minnesota slang! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always i hope you liked the chapter, i will be over here dreaming about sunshine while we get another foot of snow. i may never see the ground again.


	29. Bob Dylan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost I just want to say that yes, bobby d is born and raised in duluth minnesota so we rightfully get to claim him and it's great. secondly this is set in mid april so a few months later. and thirdly i love and appreciate all you humans so very much, i am currently buried in 50 inches of snow but you all make me very happy
> 
> enjoy!!!

“I can’t believe you got us these tickets,” Rickon was practically vibrating.

 

“They’re an early birthday present,” Sansa reminded him for the hundredth time before telling the entire car at large, “for all of you!”

 

“Technically a late birthday present for me,” Arya didn’t look up from her phone, “but okay.”

 

“Thanks for the invite Sansa,” Gendry commented and Sansa grinned at him using her review mirror.

 

“How you doing back there?”

 

“Well,” Gendry was squashed to one side of the Jeep with Rickon and Danny Glover taking up the majority of the room. Both of them were chattering about the upcoming hockey games without a care.

 

“We’re almost there,” Sansa promised him, seeing the signs for Duluth coming up.

 

“Thank god,” Arya muttered.

 

“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Sansa chided, “it’s the Frozen Four! Hockey Nationals! How can you not be super excited?”

 

“Because it’s a full weekend of hockey with my fam which is the second time we’ve done this in less than a month,” Arya complained.

 

“But ya boy won state!” Rickon stuck his head between his sisters and Arya elbowed him back.

 

“We know, we were there you idiot. And then you haven’t shut up about it since.”

 

“State champs,” Rickon leaned back with a satisfied smile.

 

“Now if Sandor wins, you’ll have a full set,” Gendry remarked and Sansa gave him a nervous smile.

 

“God, I hope he does. Oh, look, you can see Canal Park from here!”

 

Sansa let Robb overtake them so that he could lead them to the hotel. The Stark siblings, excluding Jon and Theon as usual, had decided to make the trek north to watch Sandor and the Gophers play. Talisa wasn’t sure about taking a four month baby on such a trip but when Robb suggested she stay home with Catelyn for the weekend, she’d decided they could make it work. Bran had brought Jojen with and Rickon brought Danny. Gendry was accompanying Arya, a little more at ease with her siblings now.

 

“Listen, listen, listen,” Sansa ordered the younger boys as Robb checked in, “this is a nice establishment. Dad knows the people who own it and you have to behave, alright?”

 

“Sansa, who doesn’t dad know?” Rickon scoffed as he grabbed Bran’s bags and his own, shouldering both.

 

“And when do we not ever behave?” Bran said innocently and Sansa narrowed her eyes at them.

 

“Your room is separate from ours,” Robb announced, handing Arya and Gendry a room key, “but we share a wall so no sex. Rickrock, Bran, you guys and Jojen and Danny have a room together, it’s across the hall, do not destroy it.”

 

“And I’m with you and Tali and my baby?” Sansa confirmed, as Rickon and Danny took off towards the elevators.

 

“I don’t remember you giving birth to him,” Talisa quipped and Sansa kissed Alek’s head as she grabbed the bags.

 

“I didn’t, that’s why I like him so much.”

 

“As long as you get up with him and we can get an uninterrupted night’s sleep, I don’t care who’s baby he is,” Robb remarked and Talisa elbowed him sharply in the side.

 

Their rooms faced Lake Superior and Sansa stepped out onto the balcony as Robb and Talisa got Alek settled. The wind coming off the lake was cold but not biting and Sansa let it chill her slightly, smiling. She’d always liked Duluth, despite the fact that her mother thought it was grimy. Duluth was her father’s birthplace and Sansa had always felt like it was bit like home.

 

The hotel and food were being paid for by their parents, but Sansa had bought the tickets for everyone. She thought it would be a special thing for Sandor, to have all the Starks there to cheer him on. She’d informed him of her plan at her birthday supper, just in case he wasn’t thrilled. Then, she rationalized, he couldn’t be mad at her on her birthday. But instead he’d loved it and spent several days talking about all the things they could do.

 

Sansa’s decision to post them on social media had resulted in them going semi-viral across the campus. For several days upon getting home from Nationals, no one wanted to ask Sansa about winning two titles but instead about dating Sandor. She knew that she got the lighter end however; Sandor made his team do Herbies until several of them vomited after one made a comment about Sandor chasing young skirts.

 

Umber had gladly stepped up as the matchmaker behind them, no matter how many times Sansa protested it had been fate. As a bribe to shut him up, Sansa recruited Arya to make a special batch of brownies for him and presented them to him with demands that he stop telling everyone he could hook them up with former professional athletes. So far, it seemed to be working.

 

But now the firestorm was over. Sansa could post pictures of him on her stories or feed without any fears. In the moments that they could steal with hockey season being as busy as it was, Sansa tried not to be on her phone too much. But she did have a whole folder dedicated to photos of them that was only eclipsed by her Alek folder. It made her happy to scroll through them some nights when she couldn’t sleep.

 

“Sansa, come back in before you get a cold,” Talisa scolded, sticking her head outside and interrupting Sansa’s train of thought.

 

“Sorry,” Sansa hastened back in, “do you need help with Alek?”

 

“Well, I’m going to say no but you’re going to go hold him anyways aren’t you?”

 

“Gimme my baby.”

 

The first games were that evening; the Gophers played UND first, then Boston and Duluth secondly. They had tickets to both games, since Sandor would be with the team that evening anyways. As they prepared to go to the arena, Rickon and Danny bombarded them with stats and facts about both team and the players, until it reached the point where Robb banished them to the hall so that he could look for his socks in peace.

 

Sansa helped Talisa get Alek dressed; he had a tiny hat that made him look like a gopher and a warm maroon jacket. Sansa tossed a blanket over her shoulder in case they needed it and grabbed a few toys for good measure. When they left the hotel, Arya was wearing ripped jeans and a slouchy, one shouldered knit top. Talisa eyed her in a manner that was reminiscent of Catelyn Stark.

 

“How are you not going to be cold?”

 

“Oh, no, she will be,” Gendry unzipped his coat to reveal a large button up, “so then she’s going to put this on.”

 

“You’re so good to her,” Sansa patted Gendry’s cheek on the way by.

 

“Better than any of us, we’d just let her be cold,” Bran added, walking mostly unaided with some help from Jojen. Gendry held the door for them and Arya held the second set, scowling.

 

“And everyone wonders why I like him so much more.”

 

The arena was already packed with students from both schools, spectators from around the country, and more kids in hockey jackets than Sansa could count. She kept a firm grip on the back of Rickon and Danny’s sweatshirts so that they didn’t bowl anyone over in their sheer desire to get to their seats. Robb did his best to protect Talisa and Alek from the crush of bodies, while Gendry was careful to cut a path for Bran.

 

“Thank god,” Talisa collapsed into the seat with Alek clutched to her chest. Sansa peeked at him; he was still asleep, oblivious to everything happening around them.

 

“Hey, Danny and I are hungry,” Rickon announced, the second they were all settled. Robb looked at the boys in disbelief before sighing and hanging his head.

 

“Here’s the credit card,” resigned, he passed them the black card and they both darted away, back into the crowd.

 

“Are you hungry Bran, Jojen?” Sansa asked and Bran shook his head, stretching his legs out.

 

“I’m okay for now,” Jojen said, “and I’m thinking they don’t have vegan options in a hockey arena.”

 

“Smart bet,” Sansa grinned.

 

The run-up to the game was the same as almost every other. Sansa ignored the group chat from her teammates that was mostly them poking fun at the fact that she was there. Ros offered to get her a sweatshirt embroidered with ‘Coaches Girlfriend’ on it. Sansa was thinking about agreeing to it just to see how far it would go. Rickon and Danny came back with two slices of pizza each and several bags of chips and candy. Sansa snagged a box of Skittles when Rickon was distracted and sat back, waiting for Sandor.

 

She was so pleased to be sitting in the stands this time watching him. She loved performing but it was a bit less stressful to be in the stands. At least, until the game actually started and then she worried that they wouldn’t play well and lose and end the season without winning the title like Sandor so badly wanted.

 

“There’s Sandor!” Rickon pointed, needlessly, as the teams and coaches being to file onto the bench. Sandor was off to one side, holding his clipboard and talking to some of his players. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing the tie Sansa had gotten him for Valentine’s Day.

 

“So handsome,” Talisa remarked and Robb rolled his eyes. Sansa passed her some skittles.

 

At this point, after an entire season of dating Sandor and attending games, Sansa could almost beat Rickon and Danny when it came to knowledge about the team. She knew who was injured but playing through it, she knew who had a bad attitude, who the true leaders were, and when they messed up, exactly what thing Sandor was going to yell at them for. Sansa sat on the edge of her seat, watching in anticipation.

 

She’d forgotten what it was like to watch a hockey game in person with her brothers. They’d all watched Rickon win state a month ago, but Sandor had been there and Sansa had spent more time with him than Robb and Rickon. Both of them were shouting at the players on the ice to get open, pass, move their feet, as if it was going to help. Gendry spent just as much time watching them as he did the game.

 

“They can’t hear you,” Talisa reminded Robb as he sat back, agitated that the line leaving the ice hadn’t heeded his instruction to get the puck in deep.

 

“I know,” he dug his phone out of his pocket, “which is why I’m texting Sandor and telling him—”

 

“Absolutely not,” Sansa reached around Talisa to tug the phone from his hands, “he is twice the coach you are and he’s doing fine.”

 

“I know that,” Robb tried to get the phone back from her and nearly jostled Alek; a stern look from Talisa ended any more attempts. “I’m trying to help!”

 

“He doesn’t need your help,” Arya was focused on the game, eyes darting back and forth as she watched the puck, “they’re going to score.”

 

“What?” they all turned to her in confusion and in that brief moment, the puck was slipped past the goal tender and anyone in yellow and maroon burst into cheers.

  
“Nice,” Robb looked at Arya appreciatively but Sansa was watching Sandor. His voice was still stoic, but she knew the hint of smile was there.

 

The UND fans behind them were less than appreciative of the way the game went. When Minnesota scored twice more, the grumbles from the fans increased, especially when the third period started and they’d had several beers. Twice Sansa turned around and gave them dirty looks, but they didn’t notice. Even Robb glanced back once or twice when a particular comment went past the usual, acceptable heckling.

 

“Jesus, that ugly fucking coach,” the one man griped, tossing an empty box of popcorn down onto the floor, “you ever seen a bastard with a scar that big?”

 

“Oh fuck,” both Arya and Rickon scrambled to their feet, while Sansa attempted to launch herself over the row of seats. Jojen and Talisa were trying to grab at the respective Starks hurling themselves at the other fans.

 

“You want to talk shit?” Arya yelled, struggling as Gendry grabbed the back of her shirt. Jojen had managed to catch Rickon’s wrist, but with Alek still slumbering on Talisa’s lap, Robb has more of an obstacle to get to Sansa.

 

“You can talk shit all you want about the players, the game, whatever the fuck you want, but don’t go after that, asshole,” Rickon said hotly.

 

“What the fuck is it to you fuckheads?” one slurred and Sansa’s vision was red. She was trembling with anger.

 

“Walk the fuck away,” Robb warned them lowly, “this isn’t the place or time for your shit.”

 

“Who is going to kick us out?” another man taunted.

  
“What the fuck is it to you anyways,” asked the first man and by now people were looking, watching in intrigue.

 

“Sansa,” Talisa tugged at her sleeve, “not now. Here, hold Alek.”

 

“Arya,” Gendry urged her back into her seat and gradually they all settled back in, tense and on edge. Sansa clutched Alek to her chest, still angry that she’d been unable to say anything in Sandor’s defense. What was there to say? She didn’t want to tell them that he was her boyfriend, mainly because there was no reason for them to know. And she didn’t want to explain to them just how Sandor got such a scar, but she wanted them to know that even less.

 

“I think that Alek should go back to the hotel room after this game,” Talisa said carefully, after some of the tension had eased.

 

“I’m staying,” Rickon said instantly and Arya nodded, jaw still clenched.

 

“I’ll go back,” Bran announced calmly and after a brief conversation, Robb added,

 

“I’ll stay then. Someone has to mind you hooligans.”

 

The game spoiled, Sansa only took slight happiness in the fact that the Gophers won. They wanted until most of the fans had cleared out before helping Bran up. Sansa tucked the blanket around Alek’s head carefully and climbed the stairs, muttering sweet words to him in hopes he would stay asleep. Once they reached the car and got him situated, Sansa let herself relax some.

 

“Call him tonight,” Talisa advised, as Sansa rubbed her temples.

 

“Those guys were dicks Sansa, don’t pay any attention to them,” Bran spoke up and Sansa sighed.

 

“I just hate that there’s nothing I can do.”

  
“People say shit about that sort of stuff all the time. All that you can do is be content in the knowledge that they’re shitty people and you’re not,” he said wisely and Sansa turned around so that he could see her grateful smile.

 

When back at the hotel, Sansa changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed. Positioning Alek on her chest while Talisa drew herself a bath, she flipped through the tv channels and settled on Say Yes to the Dress, watching it idly as she flipped her phone over in her palm. She knew that Sandor would be with his team for the evening but he had to be in his hotel room alone eventually.

 

_Call me if you’d like please._

 

She didn’t have to wait long for a response; she was dozing when her phone began to vibrate. She answered it, blinking the sleep away.

 

“Hello?”

  
“Everything alright?” concern rang through Sandor’s voice.

 

“Yes, fine, why?” Sansa was bemused, rubbing Alek’s back when he began to fuss.

 

“There was something weird about your text, you’re not normally like that.”

 

“Oh,” surprised, she couldn’t quite think of a response. She hadn’t thought that Sandor would be quite so capable of picking up on her moods, especially not through text message.

 

“So is everything alright or not?” he urged and she started.

 

“Yeah, no, everything is alright, it’s just that there were some hecklers, during the game,” she revealed and he was quiet for a long moment.

 

“Over the game, the players, or you?” he sounded angry, but restrained.

 

“You,” Sansa admitted slowly and for a second he was quiet.

 

“Me?”

 

“About your scar,” she added, cringing slightly.

 

“My scar?” every hint of tension left his voice and he burst into laughter.

 

“I tried to defend you,” Sansa told him anxiously and he took a deep breath.

 

“Did you now?”

 

“Well, Arya and Rickon did,” she admitted a bit sheepishly, “I mostly tried to say something and I couldn’t.”

 

“That’s fine with me,” Sandor sobered some, “I don’t want you getting into any trouble Sansa, especially where I can’t get to you. Fuck them if they talk about my scar. I’ve had this thing more in my life than I haven’t, I’ve heard it all. I know who I am Sansa.”

 

“And I know who you are and I love you and if anyone says mean things about you I want to fight them,” she grumbled.

 

“What will you do little bird, peck them?” Sandor laughed again.

 

“Yes,” Sansa said fiercely.

 

“Ah, that’s my girl,” he sounded satisfied, “we beat them and that’s all that matters. Means you and I can go around tomorrow, see some sights.”

 

“I am excited for that,” Sansa relaxed, “but are you sure you’re alright with us having Alek so that Talisa and Robb can have some time to themselves?”

 

“I don’t care, I have to get use to the kid eventually,” it was a mark of his good mood that Sandor was joking about babies so Sansa didn’t push it.

 

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then,” Sansa rubbed her eyes, getting sleepy.

 

“Sounds good babe. I love you,” Sandor told her and Sansa smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. She never got sick of him saying that.

 

“Love you more. Try to sleep some.”

 

“Always better when it’s with you. Sweet dreams.”

 

“Alright mi corazón,” Sansa whispered to Alek, “we’re going to see if this lady is going with the ugly ass mermaid dress or the equally ugly taffeta monstrosity and then we’re going to bed, yeah?”

 

“She will pick the taffeta,” Talisa remarked, climbing into bed with them, “those lights in those shops, makes you lose all sense.”

 

“You’ll make sure I don’t make a dumb choice right?” Sansa glanced at her and Talisa smiled, snuggling in.

 

“You will look like a ballerina princess.”

 

“I’ve been a ballerina princess for 22 years on my life, I’m quite alright if I’m never one again.”

 

The next morning, Sandor met them at the hotel for breakfast. Arya and Gendry were planning on taking Rickon and Danny up to Gooseberry Falls to go hiking, while Bran and Jojen had a day planned of thrift shopping. Talisa and Robb had scheduled a couple’s day, an early Mother’s day present for Talisa. Sansa knew that they had massages and lunch, so she and Sandor were in charge of Alek. Once everyone was done eating and went their separate ways, Sansa and Sandor bundled Alek up and took him in stroller outside.

 

“I like the shoreline,” Sandor remarked as Sansa braided her hair back. The day was unseasonably warm, so they were dressed lightly. The wind coming off the lake was brisk but the sun was warm. They turned and headed towards Canal Park and the lift bridge, watching the waves crash against the shore.

 

“Me too. I was always really proud of the fact that dad was from here. When I was little, I thought Lake Superior was the ocean,” she explained and he snorted. “What? It’s a valid assumption!”

 

“Mhmm, it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” he kissed her head. The walk to Canal Park was leisurely, warm in the sun. Sansa and Sandor chatted a little bit about hockey but not too much. Sansa could sense his nerves on the subject so she pleasantly talked about anything but. She wanted to go watch the ships come in and see the bridge, so Sandor obliged without much protest.

 

They decided to walk down to the end of the wave break to check out the lighthouse. Alek wanted to be held, so Sansa carried him while Sandor pushed the empty stroller. She wondered if anyone who saw them thought of them as a perfect domestic couple, out on the nicest day of the year so far. She liked that image and rested her head on his arm as they watched the waves.

 

Sansa liked seeing the massive cargo ships come through the narrow canal, huge and slow. She liked seeing the bridge rise, she liked sitting in the grass and watching the crowd. She liked being with Sandor and she liked having Alek in her arms. The world felt right. They had lunch outside on a patio, Sandor rocking Alek in the stroller with his foot. After they wandered through the shops Sansa decided it was time to go back. Alek was in dire need of a nap and his mother.

 

“Would you ever coach up here?” Sansa asked him as they hiked back towards the hotel.

 

“Coach who?” Sandor glanced at her.

 

“Bulldogs,” she responded, looking up at the hill where the college loomed. “Or Duluth East. They’re good.”

 

“Maybe I want to coach pro,” Sandor responded, looking out across the lake.

 

“Who would you coach if you could?” Sansa tried to make the question sound lighthearted, even though she was panicking on the inside. Sandor was a great coach. It made sense that he’d want to coach at the next level. But short of getting a job with the Wild, he would have to move somewhere else. And she didn’t want him to move away, not when things were going so well.

 

“I’d like to go back to Canada if given the chance,” he said thoughtfully and Sansa forced out a bark of laughter.

 

“Why? The Leafs haven’t won a cup in a generation and they won’t win for another one, the Flames manage to be a dumpster fire every year, the Sens hated each other more than they hate anyone else, you know the Oilers are never going to amount to anything while they suck the life out of McDavid—“

 

“Babe,” Sandor cut her off, “you know that usually you talking hockey is great and all, but why are you systemically destroying the teams of my home country, which invented hockey?”

 

“Okay, first off while Montreal may have been the place where the sport was—“

 

“Sansa, what’s wrong?” he stopped her in her tracks, crossing his arms.

 

“Nothing,” Sansa tried to maneuver the stroller around him, but with the amount of people crowding the rather narrow sidewalk, she was blocked in.

 

“Sansa.”

 

“You’ll move to Canada and forget about me!” she burst and he closed his eyes, bringing his hands together between his eyes.

 

“The way your brain works is a marvel,” he muttered and Sansa waited, unsure if she was being complimented or insulted. “I said I wanted to coach pro and you instantly went to me leaving didn’t it?”

 

“No,” she grumbled and Sandor came around the stroller to wrap her in a hug.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, giving her another kiss, “and if I was, I would take you with me.”

 

“Yeah?” Sansa beamed at him and he smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Yeah, someone has to force me to put photos on the wall.”

 

The rest of the day they spent with the family, heading over the Papa Luce to get pizza and wandering through all the festivities for the Frozen Four. Sandor was mostly quiet, but several times Sansa saw him nod to people. She wondered if they were fellow coaches, the parents of players, or just people from the hockey world that he knew.

 

He had to leave them in early evening to go back and be with the team, so Sansa sent him off with a long kiss and good luck. Then she decided to go with Arya and Gendry to the brewery for drinks while Bran went to rest and Robb took Rickon and Danny so that Talisa could have a moment of peace with Alek.

 

“Do you think they’ll win tomorrow?” Gendry asked, watching the play by play of the Wild game on one of the dozen tvs in the brewery.

 

“They have to,” Arya stated, “or Sandor would die from embarrassment if Sansa won a National title and he didn’t.”

 

“Oh, because my boyfriend is the type to think that he has to have an equal set of accomplishments to me in this relationship or his masculinity is threatened?” Sansa pointed out and Arya stared at her balefully then stole one of Gendry’s cheese curds.

 

“No, he’s just that competitive.”

 

“Okay, good point,” Sansa relented. Gendry snorted and then Arya’s phone vibrated, a picture of Robb on the front. She snatched it up, rolling her eyes.

 

“What Robb? He what? Well, did you tell him not to? I mean, you are an idiot…. Okay, okay, fine. Sure. Yeah, okay. Sure, bye.”

 

“What did Rickon do?” Gendry asked the second she hung up.

 

“Somehow got in a restricted area and ended up with some of the guys from the Boston team,” Arya explained, a glint of pride in her eyes.

 

“You have got to stop teaching him those things,” Sansa shook her head.

 

“Well anyways, he’s bringing him back here because he’s scared that he’ll get into any more trouble,” Arya picked up her beer and finished it off.

 

“We better go back and get some sleep,” Sansa agreed and Arya laughed.

 

“Fuck that, Gendry and I are going to the bar. Maybe get tattoos. Who knows were the night will take us?”

 

“You want to come?” Gendry offered her and Sansa smiled, patting his arm.

 

“Absolutely not, but you’re utterly sweet for asking.”

 

In the morning, Arya and Gendry were both subdued, drinking coffee and mostly trying to stay where it was quiet and dark. They were not helping along by the fact that Rickon was talking nonstop with his excitement for the day and Robb was almost as bad. Though the game wasn’t until later, there was still enough to be done around the tournament that they headed over fairly early in the day.

 

Sansa mostly stayed with Talisa and Alek while the others darted around and participated in all that there was to do. Arya beat Rickon in an accuracy shootout challenge, which made Robb laugh uproariously. Rickon took it graciously enough, but Sansa winched for the old dryer in the garage that was the source of Rickon’s target practice. She suspected it would be receiving a few more dents shortly.

 

Sansa didn’t hear anything from Sandor, but she knew that he was busy with his team. She couldn’t imagine him being nervous, but she gave him space. She was anxious already for him and didn’t want her nerves rubbing off on him. Besides, she and Talisa had their hands full trying to keep everyone together. By the time they were shuffling into the arena, Sansa was yawning.

 

It was a riot of gold and maroon. The Gophers were playing Boston and though most of the Duluth fans were disgruntled over their loss, they rooted for the home team rather than the east coast, so they’d turned up in support as well. Sansa felt better being surrounded by their own fans. She settled in, grasping Talisa’s hand as the teams finished warming up and disappeared before the start of the game.

 

“It will be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine,” Talisa was muttering and Sansa wasn’t sure if it was to her or to Alek, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

 

Rickon’s color commentary began even before the game started. He was making predictions and giving out stats on the players. Sansa caught that several of the people around them were listening in with interest. Sansa smiled to herself, wondering if Rickon’s career would end up with him on TSN. She actually hoped so, so that the world could be blessed with his thoughts.

 

Sansa had told Sandor roughly where they were sitting, across from the bench. She thought he was looking up at her, but with the size of the arena he might have been just looking straight ahead. She clasped her hands under her chin and watched him as the players skated to center ice with the ref.

 

“What do you say Minnesota, how about we play some hockey?” the announcer boomed and she took a deep breath.

 

The pace of play for so fast that Sansa spent the entire first period swiveling her head back and forth until it felt sore. There were no goals scored, but several good chances for both teams. Sansa felt exhausted from the stress of it all and she sent Rickon to go get her some sort of sugar. He came back with items for everyone and they ate between periods.

 

The second period began with a fight, which Sansa found amusing given that Sandor did nothing but pat the boys on the head when they came back to the bench. She knew that he approved of fighting to keep the boys’ energy up and as a way to change the momentum of the game. And then, a few minutes later, the puck was slid past the goaltender and the Gophers were up 1 to 0.

 

“Yes!” Rickon leapt into the air, followed by Arya and Gendry. Sansa just leaned back and exhaled hard. Now they just had to keep the lead. The entire arena was on it’s feet, cheering. Talisa winched, covering Alek’s ears but she was smiling. Sandor was clapping his boys on the back, grinning.

 

“Okay, half the game left and then it’s in the bag,” Robb was watching the replay, biting his lip.

 

“Half the game, what could happen?” Sansa muttered.

 

As it was, a lot. Boston scored two to send them into the locker room with the Gophers down by one. Sansa had a brief meltdown until Bran let her have some of his pretzel and realized she was just mostly hungry. The start of the third meant that things quickly began to get ugly. Fights, slashing, boarding, rough hits, all of it came from both sides. But when a Boston player took a dirty shot on the Gopher’s goalie and they were awarded a penalty shot, Sansa held her breath.

 

“Don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up,” Arya was muttering under her breath while Rickon’s mantra was,

 

“Five hole, five hole, five hole.”

 

“I can’t watch!” Sansa buried her head in Talisa’s shoulder, kissing Alek’s cheek and trying to calm her racing heart.

 

“Don’t fuck this up!” Robb bellowed and then there was the sort of silence that fell when thousands of people held their breath all at once. Sansa was with them, even if she couldn’t see what was happening. Then the entire place erupted into a cheer so loud that Sansa briefly assumed that the place was exploding. She looked up, seeing the 1 on the jumbotron turn to 2. They were tied. Tied.

 

“This is going to kill me,” Sansa collapsed back into her seat, rubbing her temples.

 

“If this goes into overtime,” Talisa was rubbing Alek’s back, “I think I am going to scream.”

 

“You’re good mama,” Robb patted her knee, still intently focusing on the game.

 

“You are all weak and pathetic,” Arya’s eyes were shinning, “I thrive on this.”

 

“I worry for you,” Bran patted Gendry’s arm, who nodded tiredly.

 

The game went into overtime, just to cause Sansa’s heart some extra stress. Sandor looked unbothered on the bench, barking orders at the boys. Sansa took Alek from Talisa, holding him close over her racing pulse. Arya was gripping Gendry’s arm, while all the boys were hovering on the edge of their seats.

 

“Go Sandor go, go Sandor go,” Sansa muttered, bouncing Alek slightly. She almost debated praying, but she was’t sure god she wanted to call on. Amused, she debated if one could call on Herb Brooks in this situation. She just wanted them to win.

 

“Stop fucking with the tricks, pass the puck!” Rickon yelled.

 

“Settle it, settle it, settle it,” chanted Robb.

 

“We’re just going to not watch,” Sansa whispered to Alek, “we just won’t look and it’ll be fine. Right? Right?”

 

“You’re not going to watch at all?” Bran glanced at her.

 

“Nope,” Sansa was pressing kisses to Alek’s head, “nope, nope, nope.”

 

“You’re going to figure it out anyways!” Arya had her feet up on her chair, curling her knees to her chest.

 

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to look,” Sansa replied, though when the crowd roared, she did peek. Shots were being taken on both end, neither team scoring. Sansa closed her eyes again and clutched Alek.

 

“Jesus fuck, take the shot!” Robb yelled and Talisa smacked him.

 

“Language!”

 

“SHOOT!” he ignored her and a second later, a slapshot echoed off the point and went between the white pads of the Boston goalie.

 

“YES!” Sansa leapt up, wanting to cheer but aware that she had Alek. Next to her, Arya had jumped into Gendry’s arms, Rickon was standing on his chair, Robb had lifted Talisa up and was beaming. Bran was leaning back, just grinning proudly.

 

Sansa tried to see over the crowd to see what Sandor was doing. The entire Gopher team was at the end of the rink, sticks and gloves thrown in a mess around them. Sandor was still at the bench with the other coaches, shaking hands and grinning. Sansa just watched him, beaming. Then, as he began to shuffle onto the ice, he looked up and briefly scanned the crowd. Sansa locked eyes with him and Sandor’s entire face split into a grin and he pointed to her. Sansa felt tears prick her eyes and then Sandor went to be with his team.

 

After, when all the hubbub was done, Sansa led her siblings down to where Sandor was waiting. He was waiting with his tie undone and his hair in a messy bun. Sansa couldn’t help but start running from him and he turned, catching her full around the waist when she threw herself at him. She buried her head in his neck and spun around, as he laughed.

 

“Matching rings!” Sansa cheered and he just shook his head, squeezing her.

 

“Proud of you, little bird.”

 

“And I’m proud of you Coach Clegane,” Sansa kissed his nose and Sandor set her down.

 

“This has been a perfect year,” he said seriously and she nodded, bringing him in for another kiss. She couldn’t imagine a better moment.

 

* * *

 

frozen four - this is what they call the national tourney (like final four but frozen, get it?)

canal park - my fav place in duluth, has shopping, the historic lift bridge, you can play in lake superior, and watch the massive 1000 footers come into the park! 

herbies - refresher, this is the drill that herb brooks named (red line back blue line back far red line back, repeat until dead)

und - uni of north dakota

gooseberry falls - beautiful state park north of duluth full of waterfalls

papa luce - the best pizza place, fight me new york city

dryer - a universal hockey thing were you put an old washer or dryer out and then shoot pucks at it

tsn - like espn but it actually covers hockey and not only basketball 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please please let me know your thoughts taking this journey with you hooligans has made my world and i wouldn't change a thing


	30. Lund Boats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN WHERE DO I EVEN START??  
> firstly today is my birthday and ending this crazy story on the start of my 24th year is just.... everything. and more.  
> you guys have been so amazing - i honestly thought that like two other minnesota stans would enjoy this but so many of you have said such kind things and i just... speechless. honestly speechless.  
> just thanks. and blessings. and then more thanks and more blessings. truly love each and every one of you. 
> 
> without further blubbering, i present to you the final chapter. (please note this is a flash forward of about a year and some change into june okthxbye)

"And she doesn't speak a word of English?" Sansa asked Gendry lowly. He shook his head, reaching up to help Arya into the boat. 

 

"All I got was a 'Hi' and 'Svetlana' so I'm assuming that's her name," Sandor told them, from where he was reorganizing the life jackets in the storage so that they could find the one for Alek. 

 

"And what does mom think?" Sansa asked, watching as the rest of her large family spilled out of the house and down towards the boat and dock. 

 

"It's mom," Arya snorted, already fiddling with the aux cord before Rickon could try to take over. 

 

"So she plays nice and behind Theon's back she's ready to murder everyone," Sansa guessed and Gendry nodded.

 

"At least she keeps it to herself."  

 

"Are you talking about the new girl?" Jon swung himself into the boat one handed, the other holding tight to his beer. 

 

"Does she speak any English?" Sansa asked him urgently and Jon shook his head, finishing off the beer. 

 

"Nope." 

 

"Well fuck," Sansa sat back, dumbfounded. 

 

"Tali will translate, won't she?" Sandor asked, coming up triumphantly with a bright orange and blue life jacket the size of his palm. 

 

"She will not," Talisa declared, arriving with a squirming Alek. He reached, insistently, for Sandor. "I am busy growing another human life, I am under no obligation to translate for some mail order bride."

 

"Isn't that a bit rich, considering that was the nickname you hated so much when we called you it?" Arya pointed out and Talisa stuck her tongue out before saying sharply, 

 

"Sasha! Let Sandor put your life jacket on or we will stay here!" 

 

"No," Alek said defiantly even as he obeyed. Talisa kept a stern gaze on him until the jacket was zipped and buckled. It made Sansa smile to see how natural Sandor was becoming with her nephew. He'd reluctantly admitted that he was warming to the idea of kids, especially ones as funny as Alek. Alek clambered onto Gendry's lap where he had a better vantage point, yelling as loudly as he could for everyone to hurry. 

 

"You sure you want another one?" Jon teased, as Robb got into the boat and kissed his son's head, trying to hush him. 

 

"More like someone needs to hurry up and give him some cousins so he's occupied," Robb countered. 

 

"Well now Theon has Lana!" Talisa said brightly and was rewarded with a glare. 

 

"Will someone please tell mom that I can totally surf to Jake's?" Rickon clambered into the boat with ill-grace, lunging for Alek and scooping him up, holding him over the side of the boat while Alek shrieked in glee. 

 

"No," Arya, Sansa, and Talisa said in tandem, while the boys in the boat looked intrigued.

 

"I actually want to eat sometime in the next year, so how about not?" Bran stated, taking the hand Sandor offered to help him into the boat. "Oh, and just so you all know, mom says we all need to be on our best behavior." 

 

"I resent the implication that I have anything other than best behavior," Sansa declared, making all the siblings and respective significant others groan.  

 

"Quick, someone pull up a Russian dictionary on your phone," Arya hissed, as Catelyn, Ned, Theon, and Theon's new girlfriend started walking down the dock. Everyone fell silent, watching, before Ned looked up at them and they all hastily started pretending to be busy again. 

 

"Rickon, stop before you drop him," Catelyn scolded, as Rickon held Alek by the back of his life jacket over the water. 

 

"Everyone thinks it's a good idea for me to ride over to Jake's on the surfboard," Rickon said promptly and they all instantly began to protest. 

 

"Would all of you calm down?" Ned ordered, helping Svetlana into the boat, Theon behind him. "Rickon's not surfing, Robb's not driving, and Jon's not having another beer." 

 

"Fine," Jon shut the cooler with an eye roll, though the second Ned's back was turned he opened it again and began tossing beers to everyone. 

 

"Are we all on?" Catelyn asked, counting heads. Sansa glanced around, double checking. 

 

Talisa was sitting beside Robb, the tiniest hint of her baby belly rounding out her cover up. They both were watching with beaming smiles, as Alek and Rickon watched the fish that darted about in the shallows. Arya was playing music, holding her phone of out reach of Gendry who was telling her to let him pick the playlist. Jon was watching Arya and Gendry with a smirk, while Ned eased down into the driver's chair. Catelyn, Bran, Theon, and Svetlana sat in the front, Svetlana chattering away madly in Russian while Theon tried desperately to translate. Catelyn's polite smile looked strained, while Bran just grinned. 

 

"All on, mom," Sansa said, as Sandor sat down beside her and squeezed her hip. 

 

"Alright, let's go get lunch," Ned declared, pulling away from the dock. 

 

The lake was busy; it was the first nice, hot day of the summer, which meant that everyone was out. Ned navigated around people heading to the sandbar, kids tubing, surfers, and anchored boats. Occasionally they would see someone they knew, raising their hands to wave. Once, Ned hit a larger wave and water sprayed over the front of the boat, soaking Catelyn, Theon, and Svetlana. She screeched and everyone in the rear of the boat snickered. 

 

"So how long do you think she's going to last?" Jon asked conversationally, his words hidden by the loud music Arya was playing and the speed of the boat. 

 

"I want to say the summer but I think that's overly optimistic," Sansa stated and Jon nodded thoughtfully. 

 

"Maybe Theon's finally settling down," Sandor suggested and after a beat, they laughed uproariously. 

 

When they got to Jakes, Talisa helped Alek shed his life jacket before he went tearing down the dock after Rickon, ducking between the legs of other patrons, without any fear of the water below. Robb and Talisa could only sigh, watching as Rickon swung him up onto his shoulders and kept weaving through the crowd. The rest of them followed at a slightly slower pace, Ned tipping the dock boy.  

 

They had a massive table reserved for them outside in the sun, near the playground so Alek could go down the slide while they ordered drinks and appetizers. Sansa tried to listen as Theon explained his girlfriend's story about how they met, but she was soon distracted by the crowd of people. Catelyn was the only one who appeared to be listening anyways. 

 

Jakes was busy with people, most of whom they knew from around the lake. Her father got up several times to go talk to someone at the bar, and when Robb wasn't wrangling Alek off the monkey bars, he was there beside him. Sansa waved to a few of her friends that were grabbing pizzas to go, but she stayed with Sandor. 

 

The last few weeks had gone by in a whirlwind. She'd finished college and then graduated. Tearfully moved out of her apartment with Jeyne, Roslin, and Dany. Moved into a new apartment in Uptown, even as half her things made their way to Sandor's apartment. And in two weeks she'd start her new job and be an official adult. 

 

But first there were two uninterrupted weeks of summer for her and Sandor, kicked off with a long weekend with her family. Theon and Jon were both back so they'd obliged their mother and all came to Winterfell. Being together under one roof again was fun, though her father was not so jokingly looking at moving them across the lake to a bigger house, now that over half his children were bringing significant others with them. 

 

"Did she just say that she doesn't like hockey?" Jon must have been listening to Theon and Svetlana, however closely. "Then why the hell is she dating Theon?" 

 

"She won't last long in this family if she doesn't like hockey," Sandor said under his breath and Sansa gave him an amused look.  

 

"When do you two fly out again?" Jon asked them, stealing some of Robb's onion rings as he went to go shake hands with two guys walking off a pontoon Sansa knew was worth more than her car. 

 

"Tuesday," Sansa answered, watching as Gendry rolled around in the sand with Alek. Arya was busy talking to Meera on the docks but neither seemed to mind. She was happy that Arya had found someone who understood her so completely. 

 

"You'd rather be in Canada over this?" Jon gestured broadly to the lake. 

 

"You live there most of the year," Sansa reminded him and Jon shrugged. 

 

"Still would take Gull over Canada in June." 

 

She and Sandor were going to go back to his hometown for a couple days. Sandor might not have had family but he had friends and old coaches there that he wanted her to meet. Sansa was just fine with whatever he wanted to do. She wasn't going to push it either way, not when she was just happy to be taking the trip with him. It would be good to see where he grew into the man he was today.

 

"You know we're still going to be here a bunch. Now that I don't have school or dance to take up weekends, I'll just hitch a ride up with Robb and Talisa," Sansa was still mourning the end of her time as a Gopher, but the freedom was beginning to make up for it. 

 

"Rickon's getting squirmy, I bet we leave in ten minutes," Sandor remarked idly, watching as Rickon fidgeted in his chair. 

 

"Oh, you're going to have so much fun coaching that," Sansa said happily. Rickon had committed to the U for hockey, to no one's shock. They weren't quite sure what the rules were for a player who's sister was dating the assistant coach but no one would ever accuse Sandor of favoritism, not with how hard Rickon worked. 

 

"Make that two minutes," Sandor corrected himself when Rickon stood up and found a soccer ball to start juggling. Sansa and Sandor both finished their drinks while Jon picked off the rest of the onion rings just in time for Catelyn to start rounding everyone up. 

 

As tempting as it was to leave Robb and Ned behind, Catelyn had expressed a very sincere wish that they spend the whole day together as a family, so Sansa helped Talisa drag Robb away from a knot of his old frat buddies and back to the boat. Once they were all on, Arya took control as the only one who hadn't been drinking. 

 

"What's the plan?" she asked, relenting and giving control of the aux to Gendry. 

 

"I have to surf!" Rickon leapt up as though prodded. 

 

"Me too!" Alek insisted, kicking his bare feet. 

 

"Oh no," Catelyn actually looked faint at the idea. 

 

"Why not?" Robb had another beer in hand, which might have accounted for his caviler attitude. 

 

"Robb, he is still a baby," Catelyn insisted. 

 

"Mom, Rickon is the most athletically talented kid I've ever known," Robb patted her knee, "and he's been surfing for years." 

 

"I did it with Danny's little sister," Rickon interjected. 

 

"She's five!" 

 

"Oh, c'mon mom, don't be a wuss," Arya declared, turning them towards a bay where they'd be away from other boats. "he'll have a life jacket on and everything. Worse thing that happens is they fall and he bobs around for a little bit." 

 

"Talisa?" Catelyn looked to her for support, but Talisa was biting her lip, looking at Alek's eager little face. 

 

"There's rules," she said finally and Catelyn sat back, defeated, as Rickon and Alek cheered. 

 

There was a brief safety lesson with both Alek and Rickon that commenced as Arya filled the ballast tanks; if they did fall off the surfboard, Alek had to put his hands over his head and start yelling as loud as he could. Rickon had to wear a life jacket as well as an extra precaution and was instructed to put himself in harms way before Alek. 

 

Alek was shivering with excitement as Rickon zipped on his life jacket and pulled the surfboard down. Arya rearranged them in the order she wanted, Ned serving as the anchor and the lighter people up front. Sansa sat on the back of the boat, camera at the ready. 

 

"Please be careful!" Catelyn yelled from where she'd been exiled to the front of the boat. 

 

"Stop worrying!" Rickon front flipped into the water, creating a large splash. Alek waited until Rickon came back up before leaping off the back of the boat with abandon. They'd all been slightly worried when he'd done it the first time, but he was fast showing that he had as little fear as his uncle. 

 

It took awhile for Rickon to get situated with both the surfboard and Alek to wrangle. Alek kept throwing his arms up, smacking Rickon in the face, until Talisa explained that he didn't have to wave his arms yet, just if they fell. Sandor kept a firm grip on the back of Sansa's coverup, clearly worried that she was going to tumble off as well. 

 

"Ready?" Arya called, once the splashing in the water subsided some. 

 

"Go!" was Alek's response and Arya put the boat in motion. It took a second for Rickon to rise up out of the water with Alek clinging to him like a little monkey. Rickon pulled himself into the wave using the rope, but tossed it on board once he was settled. Robb caught it and reeled it in while they cheered. 

 

"What? What's happening?" Catelyn had covered her eyes. 

 

"Look, mom," Bran pulled her hands away so that she could see Rickon surfing, Alek standing on the surfboard with him. Alek was beaming from ear to ear, little knees knocking together. Rickon was clearly working twice as hard to keep himself in the wave than he usually did, but he was grinning.

 

“Are you getting it on camera?” Catelyn asked and Sansa nodded, zooming in slightly so that she could get a closer view of Alek.

 

“Go buddy,” Robb cheered while Talisa beamed with pride.

 

“Do a trick,” Gendry yelled and Catelyn gasped.

 

“Do not!”

 

“We’re fine!” Rickon yelled, then bent at the waist so he was closer to Alek. “Tell grandma we’re fine!”

 

“Yay!” Alek waved at them and Sansa laughed. They went for a little ways further then Rickon wrapped his arms around his nephew.

 

“Ready?” He asked and Alek nodded, little face set and determined.

 

“Close your eyes!” Talisa called, while Robb advised,

 

“Shut your mouth!”

 

“Here we go!” Rickon leapt off the surfboard backwards, straight into the wave. Catelyn was anxiously leaning over the edge of the boat, watching. Arya cut the engine and the boat lowered, the wave subsiding after a moment. Behind them, bobbing in the water, were Rickon and Alek.

 

“Hey!” Ned cheered as Rickon swam to get the surfboard, Alek holding onto his shoulders and floating behind him.

 

“Good job Sasha,” Talisa clambered onto the swim deck as Rickon placed Alek on the surfboard and started kicking back to the boat.

 

“Did you have fun?” Sansa asked and Alek nodded furiously.

 

“Again, again!”

 

“Let’s warm you up first,” Sandor took the surfboard as Alek clambered onto the swim deck, shivering.

 

“Okay, I’m going to go again,” Rickon declared, pulling his lifejacket off.

 

“Can’t we leave that on?” Catelyn sighed and Rickon scoffed,

 

“Mom, that’s lame.”

 

“Safety is not lame!”

 

“I gotta look good for the gram,” Rickon declared, shaking his hair back and taking the surfboard and rope from Sandor.

 

“Yeah?” Sansa raised an eyebrow, “you want to impress that girl, what’s her name?”

 

“A girl?” Talisa perked up from where she was wrapping Alek in a towel. Rickon frantically swam away.

 

* * *

 

 

After the rest of the Stark siblings and crew had surfed and wakeboarded to their hearts content, Catelyn had Ned drop them off at the sand bar so that they could go put Alek down for his nap. Theon, Jon, and Svetlana headed off towards the end where an intense party seemed to be raging; Robb watching longingly as Ned pulled away. Arya and Gendry went towards Meera’s boat, so Sansa and Sandor wandered in the shin deep water, looking at the boats and everyone on them.

 

“Sansa!” Umber came charging through the gap between two boats, half his beer splashing into the water. “Coach!”

 

“Hi,” Sansa gave him a very brief hug, mostly because she didn’t want beer in her hair.

 

“Ah, shit, coach,” Umber desperately tried to hide the fact that there was a joint tucked behind his ear; Sansa caught it before it hit the water and was ruined.

 

“I don’t coach you anymore,” Sandor looked at him in amusement as Sansa handed him the joint back and patted his shoulder.

 

“Habit,” he admitted, “how’s my favorite couple?”

 

“Good, how are you?” Sansa looked back at the boat he came from. There appeared to be a few guys passed out in the bow, but she didn’t see anyone face down in the water so that seemed to be good.

 

“You know, can’t complain, can’t complain,” his gaze was focused on a point over her shoulder, “who the hell is with Theon?”

 

“Oh, that,” Sansa looked over to where Svetlana was waving from atop the swim tower of someone else’s boat, “is Theon’s new girlfriend.”

 

“Gotta go,” Umber patted both their cheeks and was gone.

 

“Is this weird for you?” Sansa asked Sandor, taking his hand as they resumed their walking.

 

“What, Svetlana? I guess, but no weirder than it is for you I assume.”

 

“Not that,” Sansa rolled her eyes, “seeing the guys you use to coach when you're with me.”

 

“After almost two years of this I’m use to it,” he said wryly, glancing down at her.

 

“What is weird then?” Sansa teased and Sandor watched as two men on a pontoon grilled burgers and handed them down to people on the beach.

 

“This.”

 

“It’s nice to be up north though,” Sansa waved to several of their neighbors doing keg stands, “I always think it’s nice to start the summer on a good note.”

 

“And then go slamming back into the real world away from your little lake bubble,” Sandor found them a neat patch of sand and they sat down, Sansa stretching her legs out to get some sun.

 

“What are you talking about? We only have three weddings, four vacations, and countless obligations this summer,” she said breezily, “it’ll be a blast.”

 

“That’s what it is,” Sandor grumbled but still reached over and intertwined their hands. Sansa relaxed, looking up into the clear blue sky above. It was going to be a busy summer, but for the first time, she didn’t have dance and camps and school to prepare for. She was done with it all, officially an alumni and free to spend her time just supporting Sandor instead of having to squeeze it in between things. She was looking forward to being his full-time girlfriend.

 

They’d been together nearly two years now and Sansa was more sure than ever that he would be the one she’d marry and spending the rest of her life with. There had been times of doubt, like when he’d gone and interviewed for an assistant coach position in St. Louis, only to tell her it’d been a long shot anyways. Her meltdown had only been ended when Talisa intervened and reminded her that Sandor had no clue of knowing if he’d even get the job, so what was the point of worrying her beforehand? Once she’d moved past that initial panic, she’d been able to comfort him when he had been passed over.

 

They’d had to contend with Sansa’s family and all that came with it. Sandor still bristled whenever there was a flippant or offhand remark that he’d only gotten where he was today by dating Ned Stark’s daughter, but Sansa usually came back with the fact that no one, not even her father, could pay for the Stanley Cup ring that sat on his shelf. Sandor liked when she brought that up in front of everyone, but especially the old guard of her father’s friends.

 

It had been almost two years of long, sleepless nights that were often spent apart. Through National Championship wins and a few heartbreaking losses. Through finals and practices and more than a few outbursts from both sides. But now they were here, stronger than ever and enjoying the day, chatting about everything and nothing at all.

 

Rickon came back for them with the boat, pulling in near where Sansa and Sandor were. They set off to gather everyone up and see if anyone was coming home with them. Arya and Gendry assured them they were fine with Meera and her girlfriend, plus their other friends so they went to retrieve Theon, Svetlana, and Jon. Sansa kept a firm grip on Rickon's arm as they waded into the water. He'd already attended a few college parties with Arya and had been a hit, to Sansa and Catelyn's displeasure. 

 

"What the--" Sansa stopped dead in her tracks, jerking slightly when Rickon tried to keep going and was tugged to a stop at the end of her reach. 

 

"Didn't you dance with her?" behind her, Sandor was watching the perplexing scene with a detachment that Sansa envied. She was staring in horror as Ygritte and Jon gyrated wildly on a boat, surrounded by a crowd of cheering people. 

 

"I did," her voice sounded distant to her own ears and after a moment, she came back to her senses and tried to slap her hand over Rickon's eyes. He tore it away, laughing and twisted out of her grip to go join the party. 

 

"You know, I didn't expect Jon," Sandor said thoughtfully and Sansa blinked several times. 

 

"You know, no one ever does." 

 

"Where's Theon?" Sandor glanced around, then pointed to where Theon was holding court in a different boat, cheering as Svetlana let his friends take body shots off her. 

 

"I truly don't know which is worse," Sansa rubbed between her eyes as Sandor tried and failed to cover his laughter as coughing. 

 

"Which do you want then?" 

 

"Neither," she said truthfully and then sighed. "Go get Rickon and make sure that he doesn't have a beer bong anywhere near him. I'll get Jon down first and then we can figure out the Russians." 

 

"Go team," grinning, Sandor started for where Rickon was beginning to crowd surf. 

 

"Jon!" Sansa called, pushing herself through the crowd. "Jon Stark get your ass down, we're going!" 

 

"Sansa!" Yrgitte screamed when she finally broke through and clambered onto the swim deck. "Hi!" 

 

"Hello," Sansa observed the pair of them, noting with some alarm that the typical signs of drunk Ygritte that she'd been attuned to were missing. No over bright eyes, no slurring of words, no pouting that meant she was several drinks deep. In Sansa's long years of experience, her friend was rather sober. 

 

"We're dancing," Yrgitte laughed as Jon tried to dip her and nearly sent her tumbling off the boat's edge. 

 

"Oh, let's not do that," Sansa caught Jon's elbow and helped right them, "we have to go now Jon." 

 

"What, so soon?" Yrgitte looked dismayed. 

 

"No," Jon stated firmly and Sansa looked at him balefully. Sober as Ygritte might be, Jon was an entirely different story. He was totally trashed and she wondered if he'd even be able to walk back to their boat. She'd have to call Sandor over and have him carry Jon on his shoulders. 

 

"He's fine Sansa," Yrgitte insisted, then lowered her voice and announced, "I've always had such a crush on him." 

 

"Okay, well how about I make you a deal?" Sansa took away the beer Jon was trying to chug and dumped it into the lake. "You let me get him home and sobered up and I'll invite you over some time when he's not wasted for you to make your move."

 

"Deal," Ygritte patted Jon's cheek, "see ya, hot stuff." 

 

"I like her," Jon muttered as she strutted away to the front of the boat to get herself a drink. 

 

"You don't know what you're in for, my dude." 

 

Sandor had rounded up Rickon and they were marching towards Theon and Svetlana. Theon tossed his girlfriend over his shoulder and brought her along to the boat, roaring with laughter as Jon stumbled around in the water. 

 

"He good?" Sandor watched as Jon sprawled out in the front of the boat. 

 

"Fine," Theon clapped a bracing hand on Sandor's shoulder as he helped Svetlana back into the boat. 

 

“When can I get that drunk?” Rickon asked, carefully pulling the boat away from the sandbar, navigating around the other boats and drunk kids.

 

“Never,” said Sansa, Theon, and Sandor in unison. Rickon rolled his eyes and once he was clear of everyone, took off at a high speed. Theon flopped down next to Sansa, throwing his arm around her.

 

“What do you think?” he asked her gregariously. Sansa raised an eyebrow.

  
“About what?” she asked, even though she was very sure what Theon was snooping about.

 

“You know,” he gestured at Svetlana, who was stretched out and taking pictures on her phone.

 

“Is it the real deal?” Sansa searched Theon’s face for any sign of seriousness. He was smiling, as he always was, and looking out over the lake.

 

“She’s here isn’t she?”

 

“Robb always brought girls home. We have a solid half decade of random girls in Thanksgiving photos.”

 

“Ah, well,” Theon shrugged, still grinning.

 

“Do you think you’ll marry her?” Sansa pressed him, “or is this just for fun? And no judgement if it is.”

 

“Your little brain,” Theon held Sansa’s temples with the palms of his hands, “it goes right to marriage and babies and love forever right?”

 

“No,” Sansa swatted his hands away, “I’m just trying to figure out where you’re at. Everyone’s bugging me about giving Alek a cousin but maybe they should be bugging you.”

 

“What sort of dad would I be?” Theon contemplated it for a moment.

 

“Don’t, it hurts my head,” Sansa complained and he laughed, wrangling her into a headlock briefly.

 

“You will like her,” he said confidently.

 

“Once she learns to speak English?”

 

“Or you learn Russian.”

 

They stashed Jon on the couch to sober up and then went to help Catelyn set up for the dinner and bonfire they were hosting that evening. Sansa made good on her promise and sent Ygritte a text inviting her over. The boys took Sandor to go chop wood and Sansa went to help her mother get the food ready. Arya and Gendry were still at Meera’s and Sansa was sure her little sister had no intentions of coming back until everything was ready. Sansa couldn’t quite blame her.

 

As the sun began to sink down, the boats started to arrive. They tied up along the dock or breached on the little beach that Ned had created through sheer strength of will. Sansa changed out of her swim suit and into an appropriate evening outfit. She greeted everyone then went to drag Jon into the shower. He emerged afterwards, bleary eyed and his curly black hair dripping water everywhere.

 

“Look sharp,” Sansa ordered him briskly, “your bae is coming.”

 

“My bae?” Jon rubbed his patchy beard.

 

“Ygritte,” Sansa grinned, “you spent most of the afternoon dancing on her.”

 

“Tall one, orange hair, likes Jack?”

 

“That’s the one.”

 

“Huh,” he seemed to waver between apprehension and appreciation, wandering into the bedroom. Her work here done, Sansa went back upstairs to eat.

 

Summer nights on the lake, especially when everyone was over at the house, were always a whirlwind. The dogs ran amuck happily trying to get scraps and belly rubs, while kids went screaming through the yard with sparklers and popsicles. The adults stood in clusters, drinking and watching the kids in amusement. Through it all, Catelyn and Ned mingled and said hello, in fine form as the hosts.

 

As the sun went down, Sansa found herself at the end of the dock with Sandor, watching as Arya and Gendry paddleboarded around, trying to splash each other. Sansa had her cocktail while Sandor had a 6-pack for himself and Gendry whenever he paddled back for another. Behind them was the chaos of the house, but on the water with the large moon rising, it was peaceful.

 

“I’m excited for this summer,” Sansa said softly, resting her chin on her knees.

 

“Me too,” Sandor leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I still don’t know why you got an apartment. You’ll just spend all the time at mine.”

 

“A little separation is alright,” Sansa insisted and he snorted.

 

“It’s less than 4 miles little bird.”

 

“I need to know I can live on my own,” Sansa retorted and he took a thoughtful sip.

 

“Even if you’ll spend most of it at my place anyways?”

 

“Not the times you’re gone for coaching,” she pointed out and he mulled that for a moment before brightening.

 

“You can come on the road with me now. You don’t have school or dance.”

 

“I have a job,” Sansa laughed and he sighed.

 

“Fine.”

 

“But I promise it won’t be for long,” Sansa leaned against him, slightly chilled now that the sun was almost down, “and then I’ll move in with you and take over decorating your spartan apartment with some stuff.”

 

“I have four things on the wall now!”

 

“And I forced you to put them up!” the photos on the wall were from their respective Nationals, a series that Sansa was incredibly fond of. She had had them framed and then strong armed Sandor into nailing them up so that there was something personal in the apartment.

 

“Ah, well I guess it won’t be so bad then,” Sandor chuckled and they watched quietly as Gendry and Arya held hands, talking.

 

“This is perfect,” Sansa muttered and Sandor made a noise of agreement.

 

“You know I’ll marry you, right?” he reminded her casually and Sansa’s heart still did a small flip, even if they’d discussed this many times before. Sansa did want to be on her own for a bit after school, but she was sure that she’d wind up moving in with Sandor anyways. From there, she was sure they’d be ready for whatever came next.

 

“I know,” she said softly and turned to look at him with a smile. He was smiling back, gentle in the twilight. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tangling her fingers up in his hair, her happiness bounding out from her heart and spreading over everything in the state of Minnesota.

 

* * *

 

jakes - pizza place right on the lake! always so so packed.

 

Sasha - russian nickname for alek, updated due to helpful friends! 

 

dock boy - young kids who tie up your boat and then you tip them so you don't have to do you own shit. is this a thing other places lmao

 

sand bar - there's a massive sand bar on gull that you party on by day and are terrified of hitting at night

 

surfing - the starks have a malibu wakesetter boat and i highly encourage you to look these boats up if you do not know. surfing is the most fun thing ever and i mean it. 

 

uptown - a district of minneapolis honestly not that fancy but very cute and my bff lives there so i think of it fondly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. I hope it brought smiles and joy. We are getting a foot of snow and I just want to daydream about lakes and boats and warmth. 
> 
> please leave a review on your way out - it's such a lovely birthday gift. 
> 
> and if you'd like to see more of me/wondering what comes next, check out my tumblr tomorrow - i'll be posting all my upcoming stories there. in the meantime I'm gonna turn another year older, plan a wedding, and write more sansan!!! 
> 
> see you all so soon. blessings. love. thanks.


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